


Intrinsic

by Mack_the_Spoon



Series: Within [2]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:02:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6415534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mack_the_Spoon/pseuds/Mack_the_Spoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Cabal prepares to take down Raymond Reddington, and if they can get their hands on the secrets hidden with Elizabeth Keen, so much the better. But Liz isn't going down without a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to my previous fic, "Within". It will make a lot more sense if you read that first.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I'd been planning this whole "Liz as superhero" story for a while now, but now I feel like it's also helping me cope with the victimization of Liz as a character that we've been getting in canon. Maybe it can help others remember strong, independent/interdependent Liz, too.

When he saw who was on the other end of the phone, he excused himself from his conversation briefly. “Good evening, Rachel,” he said, hoping that his overly enthusiastic voice and the made-up name would clue her in that he wasn't alone. “I'm so sorry, but this isn't a good time to talk. May I call you back in a half hour?”

“Red,” she said, and the unsteadiness of her voice immediately raised his heart rate, “someone's tracking me. Through – through the chip.”

“All right, darling,” he replied, keeping his voice light with effort, “I'll make it fifteen minutes, and it will be worth your while, I promise.”

She drew a shaky breath. “Okay.” Then she hung up.

As important as the meeting was, Red still had to work hard to focus back on it. Lizzie had sounded terrified. He needed to know exactly what she'd found out, and how. Most importantly, he needed to go to her, as soon as possible.

So once he'd seen to it that Jasper was of the same mind as him on the upcoming vote, Red left the building and quickly got into the car. He dialed Lizzie's number as he did so, and Dembe began the drive to meet her. “I'm on my way,” he told her, as soon as she picked up.

“You can meet me at – at the doctor's office,” she said. “He was the one who told me. He, uh, he wants to make things more secure.”

“Dembe, Dr. Steiner's office, instead,” Red said, covering the phone for a moment, and then spoke to Lizzie again. “I'll be there. Are you all right?”

She paused, and then he heard her sigh. “No. I don't know.”

His heart squeezed again. “We're going to figure this out, Lizzie.”

“Yeah,” she said, though she didn't sound very convinced. She hung up again before he could think of anything else to say.

“What is the matter?” Dembe asked, after several minutes of quiet.

“I'm not sure yet,” said Red. “But it seems that someone has been attempting to track Elizabeth through her chip.”

Dembe's eyes widened, and then he frowned. “The Cabal?”

“They would be the likely suspects.”

When they arrived at the warehouse, Red realized that it was Donald's SUV that was parked a block or so away, not Lizzie's. He supposed that made sense; not only would the new stage of their relationship make it very reasonable that she had told her partner first, but also there was a chance that Lizzie would need some kind of procedure done, in which case she would also need a ride home again.

At least the warehouse itself was protected with technology to mask the signal from the chip, Red thought, as they, too, parked some distance away from the building. If someone had indeed been trying to track Lizzie, they wouldn't find Dr. Steiner. But watching her signal disappear in this area would lead to its own dangers, of course.

He and Dembe were ushered inside and directed to where Lizzie sat on one of the examination tables, hooked up to the sensors that allowed the doctor to run a full diagnostic. Donald was standing next to her, looking very serious.

Lizzie herself, on the other hand, was almost expressionless except for the fear in her eyes. When she saw him, Red did not miss the small flash of relief or hope that was there briefly. “Red.”

“Lizzie. Good evening, Donald.” Then he turned to the doctor. “What's going on?”

“The full diagnostic isn't quite done yet, so I can't tell you the whole story,” said the doctor. “But Ms. Keen has given her permission for me to share the results once it is complete. And what I can also say is that, earlier today, the regular check that the BioMonitor program runs on its own self alerted me to the fact that someone was trying to hack in – through the signal from the chip.”

“I haven't seen anyone,” Lizzie said, voice low. “I haven't noticed anyone following me or hanging around where I am.”

“Is there anything to suggest how long this has been happening?” Red asked. His own people hadn't reported any sign of a tail on her, either. But he would definitely be asking them about this.

“That's part of what I'm hoping this scan will show,” Dr. Steiner.

A few minutes later, with no one having felt chatty enough to fill the silence, the doctor's computer beeped. He sat down in the seat in front of it. “Hmm. Well, nothing is damaged or even affected. Everything's working like it should be.”

Lizzie nodded. “Good.”

“As for the attempted hacking...” Red watched him scroll down. “It looks like it's been going on for a few weeks now.”

“Why is this the first we've heard of it?” Red asked, clenching his jaw.

“I can't be sure, but it looks like the incursion attempts were very minor at first. It's only within the past day or so that the hacker has really been working at getting in,” Dr. Steiner explained.

“And what can we do about that? Can we track this person?” Donald asked.

“That's not my specialty,” said the doctor. “But I've already called Terri to come in – that's Terri Sievers, who's my real tech specialist. She'll see what can be done about tracking the person, and I assume you'll also want her to beef up the security of the signal.”

During their wait for this person's arrival, Red started to turn to Dembe, to ask for his phone, but then he paused. The fact that Lizzie had called him for help, even after being annoyed with him earlier today for taking the task force's suspect right out from under their noses, was a sign of trust. He needed to repay it in kind.

So instead of going ahead and calling his security team, he drew closer to Lizzie and Donald. “Lizzie,” he said, “I'd like to increase your security. Even if Dr. Steiner's tech expert is able to bring the hacking threat level down, the fact remains that someone must have been watching you.”

“Someone other than your guys, you mean,” said Donald, giving him a glare.

“Yes,” said Red calmly. “Which means it must have been someone very skilled in reconnaissance.”

Lizzie rubbed her hands across her face. “You're asking me permission for this?”

“I would assume that you agree that this is a necessary step,” was Red's response. “But if you disagree, we can discuss it further.”

“Big of you,” Donald muttered.

Lizzie glanced at him before she looked back at Red. “No, I don't disagree. And I appreciate you asking.” She sighed. Red noticed with a sudden pang that there were dark circles under her eyes. He knew she was continuing to see her Bureau-appointed therapist at regular intervals. Even so, he wondered if she might still be having trouble sleeping.

“All right,” he said out loud. Her personal mental health was probably not a topic on which she wanted input at this moment. “I'll set that in motion.” Before he stepped away, he added, “And Lizzie, I'm glad you called me tonight. if there's any other situation you ever think of that I can offer as assistance, please don't hesitate.”

“Okay,” she said, swallowing. “I guess, uh, once we're done here, even if this person that Dr. Steiner's calling can't track it, I – we should talk about who might be doing this.”

“Of course,” Red agreed. He was glad she was already thinking along those lines. As much as it was infuriating that she had to go through this, they had a better chance of resolving it if she was ready to fight back instead of simply being afraid. Based on the way she had embraced the abilities she had unexpectedly gained so recently, he had hoped that it wouldn't take long for her to reach that point.

~~~~~~

In the end, Dr. Steiner's colleague, Terri Sievers, couldn't trace the would-be hacker. It wasn't for lack of trying. The woman seemed to Ressler like she knew what she was doing. But all she found was that the attempted incursion had probably originated on the eastern seaboard, which didn't narrow anything down, since the signal from Liz's chip didn't have that wide of a range in the first place.

In terms of security for the chip, Sievers claimed more success. With a little reprogramming work, she declared that the signal would be much, much harder to hack, and that furthermore, the next time someone tried to do so, her addition to the BioMonitor program would automatically record and trace the attempt. The woman also tweaked the BioMonitor modules that both Liz and Reddington had, to make sure they would still function with the modified signal.

Once the evening was over, Reddington invited both Ressler and Liz to his safe house for further discussion. Ressler was acutely aware that Liz hadn't spoken much in the past hour or so, and that she looked exhausted. But this had to be up to her. So when she agreed, he did, as well. It was definitely important, and he would pay close attention.

Once they were seated, Red having offered them each drinks (Liz accepted, while Ressler did not), the older man turned to Liz. “I assume you've made Agent Ressler aware of the Cabal, and the threat they pose to me, you, and others around me?”

Liz nodded, taking a drink from her glass. She shuddered lightly as she swallowed.

“Good. Then I'll get straight to the point: there is every reason to believe this would-be hacker is at least employed by the Cabal, if not one of their number.”

“They know about me? About – my cybernetics?” Liz hadn't yet set down her glass, and Ressler watched her grip tighten.

He took a sip from his own glass. “I'm afraid someone must.”

Then she did put down the drink, with enough force that the sound was startlingly loud in the quiet of the house. “Red, I can't do this. I'm not waiting around for some nameless bad guy to figure out how to get access to the chip that can _turn me off_.”

Ressler felt his own jaw tighten, and if his stomach was roiling at that idea, he couldn't imagine how much worse Liz must feel. Her voice had been shaking, but she did not look scared. She looked furious.

Reddington's glass was now empty, and he set it on the table before speaking. “Lizzie, I wouldn't ask you to sit around in that kind of agony of suspense. I will, however, give you this word of – well, not comfort, because it's far from a pleasant thought, but at least it should provide relief for that particular worry: if the Cabal intended to kill you at this moment, or, indeed, render you unconscious and unable to defend yourself, I'm certain that they would use any of the more normal means to do so before going to the trouble of breaking the security of your chip.”

Liz's eyes widened. Then she nodded again, huffing a breath. “All right, so that's not what they want to do right now. I'm still not going to wait around for whatever it is they do want.”

“What are you proposing?” Reddington asked.

“You know more about this group than anyone else who's not in it,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “Can't we go after them? Isn't there someone who's a part of it who can be our next Blacklister?”

Reddington gave one slow nod. “That's more complicated than I'm sure you want to hear. But I will tell you that several of the most recent names I've brought to the task force have been with that aim in mind.”

“Uh huh. That's great. But you still need to un-complicate the part where we end this,” Ressler said. “Liz can't wait, and I refuse to wait, either, while they bring their focus onto her.”

Liz drained the rest of her drink. “Yeah, what he said.”

Reddington sat back. “As soon as I can be certain our efforts won't simply result in some bureaucrat above Harold sweeping in to shut down the task force, believe me, I will act.” Then his gaze softened. “Lizzie. I have never taken your safety lightly, and I don't intend to start now.”

Ressler found that part of him wished he'd had his own dose of alcohol for this meeting. But it was going to be difficult enough to keep a clear head as it was. “That's a nice thought, Reddington, but this hacking thing caught you off guard, too.” Maybe the man saw Liz as his responsibility because of his past involvement with her parents, or maybe there was something more to it that he still hadn't revealed. Either way, Ressler wasn't going to let him get away with some pseudo-fatherly words and no proof of action.

“I don't deny that,” Reddington replied, with a look of mild annoyance. “However, there's an important fact to be gathered from this circumstance: someone in the Cabal is interested in Elizabeth, and their interests have to do with the technology she carries. Given that these people were among those who wanted to take possession of Sam's work in the first place, you might not be in any immediate physical danger, Lizzie.”

She blinked. “Then what do they want?”

“What they've always wanted: an enhanced soldier or spy,” said Reddington.

“They want to _recruit_ me?” She looked ill again.

“Perhaps,” was Red's response. “From their perspective, you represent the only proof that this technology works. Whatever their aim, they would not be quick to throw away that opportunity.”

Now clasping her hands together, Liz's gaze fell to the table in front of her. “Except, if I'm not interested – which I'm not – then they'd have to move on to other options for... taking possession of the technology.”

“That will not happen,” Reddington said immediately. “And here's how we can prevent it: if the Cabal wants to recruit you, which hopefully is still a little ways off, you should let them.”

Liz's head shot up. “What? You want me to agree to work with the people who killed my parents and ruined my life? Who still want you dead, and probably all my friends?”

“Yes,” he said. “If you agree to work with them, they won't take violent action against you. And then you would be in an excellent position to find out their plans.”

“There's no way it wouldn't also be incredibly dangerous,” Ressler put in, his heart pounding. “These don't sound like the kind of people who would even hesitate to react if they realized she was a double agent.”

“No one would believe that I want to work with the Cabal, anyway,” Liz said. “At least, I don't know why they would.” But Ressler's stomach dropped as he saw that she was considering it.

“We'd have to find a way to make them believe it,” said Reddington, with a nod. “Otherwise, you're both correct – any attempted infiltration would be nothing more than a trap.”

It was late enough at that point that the conversation didn't last much longer. Reddington assured them that Liz's protection detail had been increased. He told them he would keep working toward an all-out attack on the Cabal, and that they could all hope the back-up plan of Liz's 'recruitment' would stay purely theoretical.

In the car on the way back, though, Ressler had to break the silence. “Liz, are you really going to get involved in an unsanctioned spy op? I mean, if the Cabal does reach out to you?”

She gave him a look. “If they reach out to me, what other choice do I have?”

He scoffed. “Obviously I don't want anything to happen to you. And I heard what Reddington said about not wanting to shut down the task force, but if we can't avoid this... I just think it would be better if Cooper knew about this, at least. Even just some of it. If something goes wrong...”

Liz sighed. “I do feel bad about keeping all this from him, anyway. And Samar. She already knows about me, anyway, so unless she's somehow a mole for the Cabal without anyone knowing, it seems like she's trustworthy.”

“No, I think you're right. I trust her, too,” said Ressler. He was relieved that Liz hadn't responded by insisting that it was impossible to tell any of their colleagues. “And Aram. He's solid.”

“Definitely,” she agreed. “But the more people I tell, the more people I'm putting in danger.”

“These are federal agents we're talking about,” Ressler pointed out. “None of them signed up for a safe life.”

“This isn't the same thing, and you know it,” she snapped.

Of course she was more scared for the people she cared about than for herself. He took a moment to make sure he wouldn't come off as condescending. “Yeah, it's different. But what I mean is, they've already shown that they're willing to risk their safety for others. And they're your friends. I don't think you should decide for them that your safety is too big of a risk.”

Her eyes widened. Then she bit her lip and looked away. “I'm so tired of this. All of this.”

Her voice had been so quiet that he might have missed it if he hadn't been listening for it. He reached over and squeezed her hand before returning his to the steering wheel. “I know.”

Without looking toward him, she said, “It's true what I said to him, back there, though: Red knows this group. He knows how they work. I won't share this intel with others without telling him I'm doing it.”

Ressler had two simultaneous, opposing reactions to her statement: one was that he was disturbed by how much confidence she had in Reddington's judgement. This was, after all, a criminal who had more than earned his spot on the FBI's Top Ten Most Wanted list. But perhaps even more disturbing was his own lack of desire to really protest her decision. This was the kind of world they both lived in now – where Raymond Reddington's advice was both sensible and invaluable.

~~~~~~

Liz made sure to take the time that night for the relaxation exercises her therapist had taught her. And they worked to allow her to fall asleep – faster than she'd feared. They weren't enough to protect her from the nightmares, though.

Her mind skipped right past the fire this time. Instead, she found herself in a warehouse that resembled Dr. Steiner's base of operations. The difference was that it was larger and darker. Ressler had been there when she came in – they were looking for a suspect. But he vanished a moment later.

Then she felt a burning, prickling feeling at the back of her neck. That was when she collapsed to the cold floor of the warehouse. Someone was coming closer. She tried to ready her hands – the gloves were on – but somehow she didn't have the strength. Instead, she just lay there until the man was visible, leaning over her.

He wasn't familiar at first. “It's good to finally meet you,” the man said, with a crooked smile. It sounded like he had some kind of accent.

Desperately, she tried to at least scream. Maybe Ressler would hear. But she was totally paralyzed now. Tears ran down her cheeks unchecked.

“It's all right,” the man said, though his voice wasn't comforting. “This won't hurt.” Then he pulled out a small device from his pocket and pressed a few buttons.

Her eyes felt heavy, all of a sudden. She fought against it. He had done this to her. He was going to... to...

The man laughed. “Shall I sing you a lullaby, too, my little Masha? Maybe then you'll stop struggling and sleep.”

She gasped, even as she kept trying not to let herself go unconscious. There was something familiar about him, after all: his eyes were the same ones she saw every day, looking back at herself in the mirror. Her father? But he was dead. Red had told her he was dead.

“Oh, you know me now?” He laughed again. “It's time I get something out of being your father, other than a bullet.”

Even as her terror and confusion spiked, her eyes refused to stay open. No. This couldn't be happening. How could this be happening?

“Liz, wake up!”

That was Ressler. He'd found her. But she could still hear the other man's voice. Her father. She couldn't understand him anymore, but somehow she knew he was still there, still threatening her.

“Come on, Liz. You've got to wake up now.”

How she wished she could. But she was paralyzed, and her eyes wouldn't open, no matter how hard she tried.

“You can do it, sweetheart. Can you hear me?”

It wasn't a question of willpower, or whether she could hear him, she wanted to say. Then she realized the other voice was gone. It was just her and Ressler. At least that meant she was safe. She felt her breathing and heart rate slow down.

And then suddenly, her eyes were open and she was looking up at Ressler's worried face. They were in bed, not in a dark warehouse. She was home. The light next to the bed was on.

“There you are,” said Ressler, his expression clearing. “You're all right.”

She sat up and scooted against the headboard. She wasn't paralyzed, and there had never been anything other than sleep making her unable to move. Taking several deep breaths, she pushed her hair back from her face, the moisture from tears and sweat making it stick.

“You want to talk about it?” Ressler asked quietly.

He hadn't touched her, Liz realized suddenly. Probably he'd guessed she wouldn't have handled that well. Remembering the face of the man her brain had conjured up as her father, she shuddered. “I –” she started to say, and then had to clear her throat. “I've never dreamed about my father before. Not like that. Sometimes I used to imagine a sort of blurry image of him, I think, but this time...” She trailed off.

“I gather it wasn't a good dream?” said Ressler, after a few seconds.

She shook her head. It was still hard to let go of the feeling of the bewilderment and fear. “I don't even know why...” She shuddered again. “I know why I dreamed about someone using my chip against me. That's pretty obvious. But I don't know why my father... why I'd think my father would want to do that.”

“Jesus, Liz,” said Ressler, and then he reached over, slowly, to take her hand. When she didn't object, he clasped it loosely in his. “Well, it was just a dream. A nightmare.”

“Yeah.” Some part of her wasn't so sure that it was entirely meaningless. She squeezed his hand. “I'm glad you woke me up. Sorry if I woke you, first.”

“Nah, I wasn't sleeping very well, anyway,” he said. “Too much to think about.”

“I know the feeling.” Then she pushed off the covers. “I'm going to go get a drink of water. Be right back.” She felt more relaxed by the time she'd splashed some water on her face and taken a drink.

Then Ressler asked, as she climbed back into bed, “You going to be all right?”

She reached over to touch his cheek. “I think so. Thanks.”

He covered her hand with his, and then turned so he could kiss it. “Good. Let's get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” For most of the rest of the night, as near as Liz could tell, they both rested peacefully. Liz woke once or twice, but only to turn over and then fall asleep again. Ressler seemed solidly out.

After one of those calm half-awakenings, though, Liz's brain apparently decided to go back toward much less relaxing images. The fire appeared first. Then there were two figures near her. She couldn't make them out. In fact, the whole thing didn't feel as vivid, as dangerous as the fire dream usually felt. It was like there was something between it and her, blocking her experience of it.

Even so, when Liz jerked awake with the sounds of the two people's argument still ringing in her ears, it took a long time for to successfully redirect her thoughts so that she could get any more rest before the alarm went off. So it wasn't surprising that she didn't feel all that rested when they did get up. Still, she did her best to focus on the work day.

Red must have noticed something off, though. Before she and Ressler left the Post Office for their latest case, he pulled her aside. “Lizzie, are you all right?”

She sighed. “I'm fine. I mean, I'm handling things as well as I can, I think.”

“You look tired,” he said. At her half-hearted glare in response, he scoffed lightly. “As I think you already know, that's not intended as an insult. You look just as well put together as you usually do, but I can tell you're tired. Thus, I'm expressing my concern.”

“I'm still having nightmares,” she admitted, after a moment. “Not every night. But last night...” She took a deep breath. “My father showed up in the dream, which was new.”

His eyes widened. He covered it quickly, but Liz had noticed something that looked like fear in his expression. “I was given to understand that you have no memories of your parents.”

“I don't,” said Liz, frowning at him. “The only way I knew it was supposed to be my father was that he called me 'Masha', and he had – his eyes were the same as mine.” Why would Red be afraid of her dreaming of her father?

“Ah.” Still almost hesitant, he went on. “But you had a nightmare about him.”

She nodded. “Really, it could have been anyone. The main theme was – well, it was what I kind of expected to dream about, after yesterday.” She realized she was crossing her arms, but decided it wasn't worth pretending she wasn't still freaked out.

“Of course,” said Red. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but kept silent.

“Is that true?” Liz figured she might as well ask. “About my father's eyes?” Surely he could tell her that much.

His face now completely expressionless, Red nodded. Then he gave her a brief, unconvincing smile. “Well. Your partner is probably wondering where you are by now," he remarked, and left.

She tried to shake herself out of the confusion and apprehension that the interaction had left her with. Ressler, she thought, had noticed that she was quiet, but once they got where they were going, she was able to focus. In fact, she put the whole issue almost completely out of her mind.

But when Red called her that evening, after the case was resolved, it all came back. “He just said we need to talk,” she told Ressler, staring at the phone in her hand. “You know how good at not answering questions he can be. He wouldn't tell me what the topic of this discussion is supposed to be.”

“Right,” said Ressler. He cleared his throat. “Is this a 'just you and him' thing, or should I come?”

Liz blinked. “I don't know. I doubt he expects you.”

“You're probably right. Okay, then I'm just going to come out and say it, even though you might be annoyed: I want to come, because I'm worried about you. About your safety.” Her partner met her eyes seriously.

“Ressler, you're not my bodyguard!” She stared back at him. “And I cannot handle being treated like – like I'm in protective custody. I'm not doing that.”

“I know I'm not your guard. Hell, we both know you have a lot more firepower to work with than I do,” Ressler pointed out. “I just want to watch your back. I know Red already has people doing that, but they're not your partner. I am.”

She wasn't ready to back down that easily. “Yeah, you're my partner. And that's great. But I'm literally just driving ten minutes from here.”

“Yeah, and I'm not saying you're incapable of doing that all by yourself. Just let me be an extra pair of eyes, just in case. If you'd rather I not hear whatever it is Red wants to talk to you about, I can deal with that,” he said.

He wasn't trying to be patronizing. She knew that. “Whatever. Red's waiting. I guess I won't fight if you really think you need to come,” she told him. Then, without waiting for a response, she picked up her car keys and headed for the door. But she wasn't surprised when Ressler followed.

“Am I coming in?” he asked when they got to the house.

Liz turned off the car. “Red might prefer you not to.” She hadn't told him everything about the Cabal and her connections to it. For the moment, Red might like it that way.

Ressler didn't look particularly thrilled. All he did was nod, though. “Then I'll be here.”

Liz nodded in response, and then stepped out of the car. Barely had she begun to move up the walk when a shot rang out. Ducking instinctively, she vaguely heard someone shout as there was a second shot. The next thing she noticed was a sudden fire along her upper left shoulder. The impact – there hadn't been much, she didn't think, but that had been a bullet that hit her – was enough to drive her the rest of the way to the ground. And she could only break her fall with her right arm.

“Liz!” That was Ressler. He ran toward her, then crouched down next to her. “Liz, are you hit?”

“My arm,” she managed, looking around. “Who's shooting?” And where had Red's increased security detail gone? If they had all been taken out, this was starting to feel like a worst case scenario.

“We've got to get you out of here. Into the house.” He reached for her uninjured arm and pulled her up.

Grunting, she stood with him. Then, as they turned toward the house, perhaps a dozen armed men appeared from around the property, barring their way and all aiming their weapons at them. They froze. “Agent Keen,” said the man closest to them, “come with us and no one else has to get hurt.”

Distracted as she was by the steadily increasing pain in her shoulder, Liz did her best to focus on what she could do here. She didn't have her gloves on, but she was wearing her 'cape.' She could probably channel power through the bracelets themselves. Slowly, she raised her hands as well as she could. Her whole left arm throbbed.

“You get your hands where we can see them!” the man yelled, tightening his grip on his weapon and shifting his gaze next to her.

Liz glanced over at Ressler, too. He must have been making a move toward his own gun. “Don't do it, Ressler.” She couldn't tell him she was planning to take care of it, but she could and would tell him he didn't need to risk everything on a foolish move.

“Listen to her,” one of the other men said. “Don't do anything stupid.”

“Liz,” Ressler said urgently, “you can't go with these people.”

“We don't want to hurt anyone, if we don't have to,” the leader said.

Meanwhile, Liz turned slightly so that she could get a better view of where all the men were. She didn't think they were completely surrounded. That was good. She thought she could take them all at once. Suddenly, just as she was readying a burst of electricity, more gunfire started to sound. Ressler pulled her down again, but there were no bullets whizzing by them this time. They came from close by, though.

This had to be Red's people, Liz realized finally. Some of the shots were coming from the house. That meant that she and Ressler were now adjacent to a serious firefight. Which meant... Mentally shaking her head over how slowly her thoughts were moving, she pulled out her service weapon and joined in the battle along with Ressler. Her aim was somewhat hampered by her inability to use more than one arm, but her shots still found their mark more often than not.

She could tell that Ressler was trying to angle them back toward the car, but they weren't making much headway. And then all of a sudden someone grabbed her injured arm, just below the wound, and Liz barely choked off her scream. Hot metal pressed to the side of her head – the muzzle of a gun that had been recently fired. “We were told to take you alive if possible,” a male voice said in her ear, as shots continued to ring out. “But our plan B is just to bring in your body. We can just leave your partner's here, though.”

“No!” Ressler's voice shouted. “Get the hell away from her!” But he stopped, too, with three men having taken advantage of his distraction to surround him.

Liz dropped her weapon. “Okay,” she said, loud enough for her captor to hear. Her heart was pounding, and if she allowed herself to think about what they wanted, nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She knew she could get this guy away from her. She could send a jolt of electricity through her left bracelet to where the man was holding her. But could she take out the men surrounding Ressler at the same time? And then again... there was Red's suggestion to allow the Cabal to recruit her. Besides, even if she electrocuted most of them but some of the others got away, then the Cabal would know her abilities. Who knew what they might do the next time, with that knowledge at their disposal? If another situation like this came up, she'd have no advantage, no way to protect herself or her friends.

So she kept still, though she didn't feel even close to ready to taking this step. “Okay,” she repeated, “I'll go with you.”

“Good choice,” the man told her, pulling both of her arms behind her. A second later, she felt a zip tie go around her wrists. Then the man made a call, presumably through a radio, to inform the remaining members of his team that “the target” was in custody.

Liz kept silent, knowing that even with the gun not touching her anymore, it was probably still close at hand. She allowed herself to be pulled away from the car and Red's safe house. Red, she assumed, must be watching from inside. Dembe wouldn't have let him come out in the middle of a firefight.

Ressler, on the other hand, was watching her in horror. One of the men kept his gun trained on him as they retreated. The panel van that they led her to was windowless. She was shoved none too gently into the back. Unable to catch herself, she twisted, grunting as she landed mostly on her uninjured shoulder. “Hey! I agreed to come with you!” she called out as three men got in the row in front of her, and the door closed. “And I'm already hurt. You got what you wanted. Do you really need to throw me around?”

“You'll live,” the man who had taken her captive replied. “Meanwhile, we can't have you causing trouble on the way.” He came around to the back as the van took off, a syringe in his hand.

Liz's skin crawled. “Wait!” She did her best to get herself under control despite the panic that threatened at the thought of being drugged by strangers who knew about her cybernetics. When she spoke again, her voice was steady. “If that's a sedative, don't do it. You don't know how – how the technology you're interested in, that I have, could be affected.”

The man frowned and crouched down where she lay, still readying the syringe. “Bullshit. It's tech. What would drugs do to it?”

She raised her eyebrows, again forcing herself to sound calm. “Oh, right, because you're the expert, not the person who's lived most of her live with it. It's meant to interact organically with the rest of me.”

He seemed to be considering this. “My ass is the one on the line if you try some stupid escape and cause any problems.”

She nodded. “Fine. That's fair. I promise not to try anything. I'll just lie here. You have my word.”

He was the one to raise his eyebrows. “Your word. Uh huh.” Then he lowered the syringe and pulled a black hood out of the backpack he'd been wearing. “Then you can wear this. You're not supposed to see where we're going.”

Liz licked her lips. That didn't sound very fun, either. But given the choice... “Fine.” She stayed still and tried to keep her breaths even as he bent over and put the hood over her head.

“You break your promise, and I'm going to risk the drugs,” she heard him say. “So you just lie there, like you said.”

“I will,” she said, her voice muffled now. She hated the disorientation, the darkness, and the feeling (irrational though she knew it to be) that suffocation was a real possibility. But at least she was conscious. No one would be attempting to open her up while she was unable to resist. She focused on that, and breathed slowly and shallowly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels even more needed after 3x18. :(

~~~~~~

Ressler had to remind himself that shooting Reddington would not only be illegal and immoral, but totally counterproductive in this situation. “What do you mean, there's no signal? Is she even still alive?”

Reddington continued to stare at the device in his hands as if doing so might actually have an effect. “I assume so. If they intended to kill her –”

“Yeah, yeah, they would have just done it,” Ressler interrupted, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't even called Cooper to report Keen's kidnapping yet, because freaking Raymond Reddington said it would be better to wait. “So why no signal, then?”

“They must be using some kind of shielding, perhaps on the vehicle that took her,” said Red. “Your colleagues might be able to find the car on traffic camera footage, but we can't track Elizabeth directly.”

“Are you going to let me call the FBI, then?” Ressler asked, his hand straying to his pocket immediately. Her pale fact and set expression as she'd been led off refused to leave his mind – along with the blood that had still been dripping down her arm.

“That depends,” Reddington replied. “How do you think Harold will react to the news that his agent is attempting to start an undercover operation with a group he has no reason to believe even exists?” After a short pause, he went on, “That was actually a genuine question, Donald. I'm curious to hear what you think.”

“Well, I doubt he'll be happy,” said Ressler. He himself could still barely believe this had happened. He wished she had fought back. It had been a tense situation, for sure. But she still could have blasted the guy who had grabbed her, and probably all the rest of the Cabal's men, without breaking a sweat. It was obvious she had chosen to go with them, instead. Even though they hadn't had the chance to talk through everything this would mean.

“I'm hopeful he'll come around,” said Reddington, with a nod. “Elizabeth will need all the help she can get. I propose that you call your boss, inform him that she's currently missing, and tell him I want to meet. You can give location information, as well, but I'd prefer we wait until we're meeting face to face to provide more details. Meanwhile, I have a few contacts of my own to alert, starting with Dr. Steiner.”

Though it hadn't stopped galling him to take the criminal's orders on this, Ressler had to admit he was way over his head here. So things went as Reddington had requested. Less than an hour after Liz had been taken, he and Reddington were at the black site in Cooper's office.

“And what, exactly, is this group that Agent Keen has undertaken to infiltrate, by herself and with no backup?” Cooper asked.

“The group is made up of a large number of powerful figures all over the world,” Reddington informed him, before giving basically the same summary of the Cabal that Liz had told her partner.

“I see,” said Cooper, not sounding at all convinced. “And even if I decide to believe this conspiracy theory of yours, how does that explain why these people would be interested in Agent Keen?”

Ressler looked at the criminal. He was curious as to what he would choose to reveal, here. If he were honest, he was glad Reddington was doing most of the talking right now.

Reddington sighed. “There's more to Agent Keen than meets the eye. I expect she might wish to tell you something about that, herself – assuming she's able to stay safe in this highly volatile situation.”

“I know you're aware that your demand to speak only with Agent Keen has already put her under a cloud of suspicion with the people who know about our arrangement,” Cooper said, frowning. “She has insisted she doesn't have any connection to you. She's denied working with you. Are you telling me now that she does?”

“Not at all,” said Reddington. “Agent Keen has not been hiding illegal activities from you or anyone. The Cabal's interests in her, beyond their knowledge that she works on this team, are along another line entirely, which I won't disclose without her permission.”

“Sir, if I may,” said Ressler. Now he had an idea of how to move this on. “Keen has told me a little bit about this. It's very personal, but she hasn't done anything wrong.” Technically, as officers of the law, both he and his partner were wrong to not report Dr. Steiner's unregistered research. But Don's conscience was clear on that score: either the doctor was allowed to continue, or Liz would die.

Cooper raised his eyebrows. “And what do you know about this so-called Cabal, Agent Ressler?”

“Nothing beyond what you know now,” he said. That was a minor lie in that he knew Liz's parents had been tied to them, but again, that was both personal and not her fault. Even so, he didn't enjoy keeping facts from his boss. Still, Liz had trusted him with this information. He wouldn't let her down if he could help it.

Cooper gave a nod, and sat back in his seat. “All right. I agree that our priority is to keep Agent Keen safe. We'll start a search for her right away. But once we get her back, I'm going to need something more than vague statements and promises that she's innocent. Especially since this operation that she's started here is against the rules of her position, and she must be well aware of that.”

“Excellent,” was Reddington's assessment, apparently ignoring everything beyond his agreement to use the Bureau's resources to help find her.

~~~~~~~

Liz was led from the van, still hooded, inside some building. The drive seemed to have taken hours. She hoped Red and Ressler were cooking up something on their end, because she had never felt so unprepared and terrified in her life. When the hood was pulled off, she blinked rapidly, her eyes tearing up at the sudden light.

“Miss Keen. It's a pleasure to finally meet you,” said the man in front of her. “Though I thought I'd be waiting until you were conscious. But here you are, awake and in the flesh.”

The way this man's eyes traveled the length of her then made Liz's hair stand on end. She took a deep breath, trying not to make it obvious. “Here I am.”

“She said drugs could interact with the tech inside her,” her guard said, clearing his throat. “I didn't want to risk it. Anyway, she stayed quiet the whole trip.”

The man who must be in charge here raised his eyebrows. “Unless I'm totally wrong, which I don't think I am, that's a load of bullshit, Miss Keen. Your tech is supposed to act as much like organic material as possible, right?”

Liz raised her chin and met his eyes. “You're not wrong. But why would I choose to be drugged and delivered to people I know nothing about, when I could be conscious instead?”

He blinked, and then shook his head. Then he gave a dry, wheezing chuckle. “Yeah, fair enough. But you should probably know you're not going to be able to get away with tricks like that from now on. I may not be the genius your old man was, but I've been studying and testing human cybernetics for more than a decade.”

It was Liz's turn to raise her eyebrows. “Okay. Fine.” She didn't say out loud that his tests must not have gone so well – otherwise, why was she so valuable to these people? “So. You brought me here at gunpoint. You must have something in mind for me.”

The man smiled. “You're right about that. I want to have what the US government should have already had, more than twenty years ago: functioning cybernetics for our people.”

“The US government?” Liz echoed. “Are you saying your bosses are the same as mine?” She would have crossed her arms if her hands hadn't still been tied behind her back. At least she didn't notice any more blood dripping from her bullet graze. The wound still throbbed dully, though.

“Not quite,” the man replied. “My work doesn't exactly show up on any official records.”

“Ah,” said Liz, nodding. “You know, Reddington said there's some kind of shadow government at work behind the scenes, that they're the ones you really have to watch out for. I've been skeptical, but that sounds like you might know what I mean.”

The man's face showed no reaction. “What else has Reddington told you?”

“He's not all that big on sharing,” she said. “But he's right a lot more often than he's wrong. I'm here, and I'm not going to waste effort trying to escape when there's no chance I'll make it. Still, if he was right about how dangerous you people are, I'd like to know why I was told you prefer to have me here alive, instead of just killing me and taking what you want.”

“Miss Keen,” said the man, “I know that you know we've been watching you.”

“Tracking me,” she cut in.

“Same thing,” said the man, waving a hand. “Anyway. You haven't been a field agent for very long, but in the time we've been watching, you showed yourself to be worthy of being so much more.”

Red was right. Again. Liz pretended more confusion than she felt. “What are you talking about?”

“We know you already have the basis, in terms of tech. And with some more training, you'd have the skills. Work for us, Miss Keen. We can make you the kind of operative any country would dream of having. That they have dreamed of having for years, actually.” The man's face, so flat and unremarkable, showed excitement for the first time as he leaned across his desk.

“I don't even know who you are,” Liz said. “And I like my job. Plus, the FBI didn't have to kidnap me to force me to do it.”

Sighing, the man straightened. “Haven't you ever felt like you could do more, if the rules allowed it?”

“Those rules are the laws I swore to uphold,” Liz said, shifting on her feet. She was starting to get a handle on the kind of person this guy was. It wasn't surprising that a group like the Cabal would appeal to him.

He scoffed. “Very noble. You work side by side with one of the worst criminals the Bureau has ever put on its list. Doesn't seem to bother you too much.”

“Reddington's arrangement isn't illegal,” said Liz, and allowed herself to sound uncertain. If this guy could be convinced he was making headway, if she could be convincingly recruited, maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Still incredibly dangerous, but at least not impossible.

As she'd hoped, the man laughed again, with the same wheeze that she was quickly starting to hate. “Wow. You sure sold me on it. I bet the American people would feel just as happy as me that he gets to avoid prison because 'his arrangement isn't illegal.'”

“You still haven't told me who you are,” Liz said, biting her lip.

“My name isn't important. You can call me 'Chief.' If you agree to work with us, you'll be reporting to me. And if it makes you feel better, I'll tell you that I work for the CIA. I'm not trying to make you a traitor,” said the man.

“The CIA,” Liz said. “I thought it was illegal for the CIA to run ops in-country.”

“It would be, if our work showed up on official reports,” he said. “So, what do you say, Miss Keen?”

Liz swallowed. “When Reddington told me about this shadowy group, he also said they don't like him very much. I don't want to take Reddington down. The task force centers around him.”

“It's interesting that you'd say that,” the man called 'Chief' remarked. He picked up a tablet from his desk. “We've noticed that you spend a lot of time with him.” He tapped the screen a few times, and then turned it to show her several surveillance photos of her, Reddington, and frequently Dembe.

“He only speaks with me,” she said, legitimately trying not to sound too defensive. These people might know exactly what her connection to Reddington was, but she did not want them to know that she did. “That's how it works.”

“Uh huh,” the Chief said, with a quick smirk. “Whatever. My point is, we know all about this task force of yours – or should I say, of his – and we haven't killed him yet. Right now, we're fine with him doing what he's doing. But if we decide he's crossed a line, we can find him in a matter of seconds and take him out. And the same goes for you and your team: so far, none of you are bothering us. But if you do, let's just say it wouldn't take much to discredit you all, from Harold Cooper right down to Aram Mojtabai, before we also take Reddington out.”

Liz clenched her hands into fists. “Now you're saying if I don't work with you, my friends suffer?”

The Chief set down the tablet. “You're not dumb, that's for sure. Glad we understand each other. Now. Can we move on? I'm thinking of a kind of, 'we'll show you ours and you show us yours' thing, next.”

Sighing, Liz wished she could rub her hands across her face. “I guess I don't have much choice.” So much for her being able to convince them that she didn't need any other persuasion. She should have known that wasn't going to happen.

“Don't think of it that way,” said the Chief. “Focus on what you're going to get out of this – which is what I'm about to show you.” He nodded to her guard, and the three of them headed out of the room. They were joined by one other guard along the way, and there was another man outside the next room who let them in when they arrived.

“What is this place?” Liz asked, as they went in. The door hadn't been labeled, but the guy outside had scanned his palm and entered a code before they were let in.

“I like to call it my workshop,” her host informed her. He flipped on several switches, and the dimly lit room brightened.

It was a little bit – just a very little – like Dr. Steiner's base of operations. The Chief was very eager to give her the tour. But there was none of the friendliness she had felt almost from the beginning with Dr. Steiner. Tellingly, as well, none of the cybernetics seemed to be meant to be used just for helping someone. They each had some kind of “augmented” feature. And most of them did not look like things she'd find useful in her personal situation. She wasn't interested in anything requiring a major overhaul of her own system, for one thing.

“Have you been able to test the functionality of all these?” Liz asked, partway through the tour. She hoped she came off as more curious than challenging.

“Of course,” the Chief said. “We've had good success with a few volunteers.” But he didn't seem to want to go into any more detail than that.

Liz was intrigued in spite of herself by the last area they came to. Some of these attachments were prosthetic limbs with extra abilities added in. She had to admit that sounded cool. But even more interesting to her were the prototypes of artificial skin: though it didn't look as natural as hers, she couldn't help finding the idea of increased burn resistance and even bullet resistance very attractive. “This really works?”

“It does,” the Chief assured her. “You're interested?”

“A little,” she admitted. “I wouldn't necessarily want to sacrifice, uh, the aesthetics, but increased resistance sounds appealing.” Since most of her artificial skin was covering vital organs, that seemed like a particularly good idea.

“It did to us, too,” the man agreed. “Imagine if our soldiers and spies were so well protected that hand-to-hand combat was nothing to worry about?”

She nodded. While she was fairly sure he didn't care about individual lives so much as a potential American advantage, the image was undeniably positive. The other interesting idea was a kind of a 'battery backup' device that was supposed to make sure a system that ran on electricity would start up again even after an EMP. That, Liz resolved immediately, was worth asking Dr. Steiner about the next time she saw him. Her own grounding devices could probably fulfill that role with just a bit of modification.

Once the tour was over, the Chief turned to her. “So, what do you think, Miss Keen? Is some of this the kind of thing you'd want for yourself?”

Liz shrugged slightly, though that was awkward with bound hands. “Yeah, some of it's pretty interesting.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “Because I'm very interested to hear about _you_ , now.”

“If you know anything about me, maybe you know the tech I have wasn't meant to make me some kind of super soldier or spy,” she said. “It was meant to keep me alive.”

His eyes widened slightly. “We've been monitoring you enough to see that you don't fight with any enhancements.”

Liz silently thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't been in any situations recently where it would have made sense to use her cape. However long she was going to be able to keep that a secret would be an advantage. She needed to reveal that at just the right moment – maybe to escape. “Right,” she said. But if she didn't reveal anything willingly, she had no doubt things would get very bad for her. “So my lungs and heart – those are the major ones.” It probably wasn't going to make things worse to tell him that, nor about the other organs. She left out any mention of her chip, or her cape.

“Fascinating,” said the Chief. “That's pretty wide-ranging. But you know we know about the chip, too, right? I can see why you wouldn't want to talk about it, but we know it's there, and that it's monitoring the rest of your cybernetics.”

Clenching her jaw, Liz gave a single nod.

“Well, that's a good start,” said the Chief. “I'm going to want to look at the data the chip handles.”

“I can't help you there,” Liz said flatly. “There's a specific program for accessing that data, and I've never done it, myself.”

The Chief frowned, staring at her. “Really.”

“Yep,” she said, and met his eyes.

“Uh huh.” He didn't seem convinced. “You're not just being uncooperative?”

She shook her head. “I literally can't help you. But if you're going to hold my friends' lives over my head every time I say something you don't like, I'm going to stop responding at all.”

He still didn't look pleased. But then he blew out a breath. “All right. Then I will insist on X-rays and a full-body CT scan. I'm betting you do know how to open yourself up, but we can hold off on that for now.”

The cold sweat that Liz felt break out at his casual mention of that was entirely involuntary. She pressed her lips together and breathed as normally as she could. “Fine.” It wasn't really fine, though. Depending on how closely they examined the results of her scans, there was a good chance they'd see the wires that ran from her bracelets down to her abdomen. Her options were running out even faster than she'd feared. If she'd had time to prepare for this, she might have been able to think of some way of staying undercover... but she hadn't. Still, at least she would have _some_ info to show for all this. If she made it.

"Oh, and we'll bandage that graze on your arm, too," the Chief said, as they moved to leave the workshop. "Wouldn't want you getting infected."

Liz kept extremely alert as she was led down the hall again, this time to a room that was unmistakably for medical purposes. First, one of the technicians found a sterile bandage and tended to her wound. Then, while they prepped the machine (it looked like the X-ray would be first), Liz cautiously began to pull some of the room's electricity in through her bracelets. She made sure she was positioned so that no one would see anything.

“What the hell-?” one of the techs said, straightening up from the machine's control panel. “I'm sorry, sir. It's glitching.”

The Chief raised his eyebrows. “Glitching? This is supposed to be a state-of-the-art machine!”

“I don't know what's wrong,” the man said, looking nervous.

Liz continued to draw in energy until she was close to that high feeling she'd experienced once before. Then she stopped. Now was the time to try something new. It was going to be hard, since she couldn't even see what she was working with. Yet if she could get her hands undone... She did her best to visualize exactly what she wanted to do with the small but focused amount of electricity she wanted to release. The zip tie wasn't really a conductive material, which meant she had to use more than she would have preferred.

In a stroke of luck, however, at the exact moment that she heard a crackle behind her that she was sure was too loud to ignore, the technician let out a cry. “There! It's working.”

“Good,” said the Chief. “Now, Miss Keen, if you'd like to-”

Liz took that moment to bring her hands to her sides and release a simultaneous bolt of electricity at the Chief, the two techs, the guard, and the room's security camera. If she'd judged correctly, only the camera was dead. But the men in the room slumped to the floor, unconscious at least.

Heart pounding, Liz grabbed the guard's gun, stuck it in her waistband, and then took his radio as well. Hopefully it still worked. Then she opened the door and eased her way back into the hall, looking around as she went. She flexed her arms, stiff from the zip ties and sore from the bullet. It was time to head toward the nearest exit. She was far from free. Not yet. But there was a chance, now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm still alive. So sorry for the delay! I was pretty bummed and frustrated by the way S3 ended, which partly explains my extreme writer's block for this story. But I'm back, and I don't think I'll get stuck quite so badly again with this one.

~~~~~~

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” said Samar in a low tone, as they stood in the war room waiting on Aram's search of traffic cams, “but I'm guessing this undercover op of Liz's has something to do with what you two told me about her?”

Ressler met her eyes for a moment, crossing his arms. “Sort of, yeah. It's more complicated than that.”

“And you won't go into more detail?”

“It's not my story to tell,” he said.

Samar raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

“Guys,” said Aram, then. “I think I got her.”

“What do you have, Aram?” said Ressler, quickly moving to stand by his desk.

“The van that left Mr. Reddington's property. Or the property where he was, anyway.” Aram tapped the keyboard and the images went up on screens around the room.

They were able to track the images for several miles out, and then they lost track. “I'm sorry, there aren't enough traffic cams out there,” said Aram. “Do we know what kind of a place they might be taking Agent Keen?”

“They're trying to recruit her,” Ressler reminded them. “So somewhere that could be a kind of a base of operations would make sense, but it would have to look like something else, something nobody would suspect.”

Unfortunately, there were several commercial districts near where the trail had run cold, and they all seemed like plausible locations. Ressler tried not to let his agitation grow too much. He trusted that Liz would do her best to stay safe, but this was all crazy. It was more than any one person could deal with. Even someone with what amounted to superpowers.

~~~~~~

Liz had made it to a hall with a clearly marked exit before she'd attracted any attention. Then a shout stopped her.

“You! You're not authorized to be here. Where's the Chief?”

Liz turned around. There was a man who looked like a soldier, gun drawn. It wasn't pointed at her, but it was moving that direction.

“I was just looking for him,” said Liz. That was a terrible line, but she tried to sell it as well as possible. “He was supposed to show me something.”

“Don't move,” was his response, and he removed one hand from his gun to grab the radio at his belt.

Immediately, Liz concentrated on pulling power from the radio, as she'd done with the X-ray machine. She felt when it worked. Unfortunately, it wasn't as subtle this time.

“What the hell – you did that!” the man accused, swallowing visibly.

Liz widened her eyes. “Did what?” Then, before he could try to speak further, she grabbed her own stolen weapon and aimed it at him. “Drop it.”

“How did you get a weapon?” He didn't look like he wanted to drop his. In fact, his other hand returned to the gun.

Liz didn't waste anymore time. In hopes that it would attract less attention than a gunshot, she fired a bolt of electricity at him, dropping him to the ground. It had probably been enough to kill him. Either way, now she had the chance to head for the exit. She saw that it was an emergency door. Not eager to literally sound an alarm, she yet again did her best to disable the mechanism by pulling in power from it.

Then, taking a breath and saying a prayer to whoever might be listening, Liz pushed open the door. There was no alarm. With a quick sigh of relief, she stepped out and closed the door again behind her.

~~~~~~

After a few more precious minutes wasted, during which Ressler had done his best not imagine what horrible things could be happening to his partner, only one out of six potential locations had been eliminated as possible sites for this base. Then Reddington eliminated another when Aram pulled up these places' regular rates of utility usage. One of the sites used far too little, he said.

“And now I can get current satellite for this one,” Aram announced, bringing one of the sites into focus on the bullpen screens. “We have a one in four chance. If we're lucky...” He typed furiously for a few seconds. The old image readjusted to show live footage – although nothing major seemed to have changed, except that the image was dimmer, lit only by a few exterior lights. “Or maybe not.”

“Wait,” said Samar. “Can you zoom in on the lower right-hand area?” She pointed. “Isn't that the same kind of van?” Ressler honestly couldn't tell what she was referring to, but he hoped she was on to something.

Aram began to zoom in. “Nice catch. Let's get a closer look and find out.” That segment of the image was enlarged. “Well, it does look like it could be the same kind of van. But I can't get an angle on the license plate.”

Ressler sighed. “Any way we can back up the footage, watch the van arrive?”

“Trying right now,” he said. “Ah, come on! It's not responding. Hold on. If I just try...” Aram trailed off, typing in another rapid set of commands. “There. That should do it.” The footage reversed. There was no movement from the van right away. But then some figures came out of the building – half-dragging a person between them with a hood over his or her head.

“That has to be her,” said Ressler, clenching his jaw.

“And now I have a shot of the license plate,” said Aram, as the van had started to move backwards on the screen. “It's a match.”

It was only after Cooper finished giving instructions for the team to move out that Ressler noticed Reddington was nowhere to be seen. He'd probably made his exit as soon as they saw the prisoner in the satellite footage. But the FBI agent found he didn't mind. The faster someone could get there and provide backup for Liz, the better.

~~~~~~

Liz had begun to think her luck might hold. No one had seemed to be guarding the base's perimeter, and so she'd made it out into what looked like a little-used side yard without appearing to attract any attention at all. There was some kind of area of concrete beyond it. It was a little hard to see, since it was definitely full dark by now and this part of the complex was also not the most well-lit section. If she reached a road or parking lot, it would be easier to tell which way to flee.

But just as she had gotten about halfway through the dry, unkempt grass, an alarm started to sound. Swearing to herself, she quickly darted to the side, in the hopes of using the hedge there as cover. She crouched down, still moving toward the concrete lot. She glanced around. No one seemed to have come this way yet.

However, she was starting to hear shouts from nearby – probably both inside the building and outside. Moving with even more caution, she took a few more steps. That was when the sound of a vehicle became audible. And then headlights showed that it was pulling in to the lot in front of her.

Cursing again, Liz started to ease back, in case whoever this was could see her. The hedge was scant cover, even in the dark. If she could at least get a sense of who these newcomers were without being spotted, herself...

The vehicle stopped. Liz tried to peer through the branches of the bush in front of her, but she couldn't see much. It was large, but it didn't look like a military vehicle, at least. The doors opened. A middle-aged man wearing glasses and a suit, who seemed like someone she should recognize, stepped out of the passenger side as a half-dozen other men emptied from the back. “Split up. She can't have gotten far.”

Liz winced. That couldn't be good. The men he had given the order to definitely looked armed. She thought she'd almost prefer them to have a shoot-to-kill order, but she doubted that was the case. Swallowing back her fear as much as she could, she watched one of the armed men come straight toward her.

There was no way he wouldn't see her - not while actively searching. If she shot him, everyone else would converge on her position. What the hell, she thought to herself. She'd stayed alive through this whole insane experience, and even avoided anything particularly unpleasant (the minor bullet wound in her shoulder notwithstanding). So with a deep breath, she stood up, hands raised, leaving her stolen gun on the ground. “I'm here. Don't shoot.”

The man who was closest instantly raised his flashlight and his weapon and pointed both at her.

“Agent Keen,” said the guy with the suit. She could see an expression of mild surprise on his face. “I admit I expected it would take us a bit longer than this to find you. How fortunate.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

He smiled. “True, we haven't personally met. I was acquainted with your mother, however.”

She rolled her eyes. “Am I supposed to be so impressed by that that I forget you still haven't introduced yourself?” Cabal, she had to assume. And that was an expensive suit he was wearing, so he was probably high in the ranks.

Now he chuckled. “Maybe not.” He gestured to the man in front of her, who lowered his weapon and then pulled her arms behind her back.

Stifling a cry at how that wrenched her bullet wound, Liz had a sudden idea. It was crazy. It was extremely reckless. And it might just assure her freedom, at least for this moment. “Stop,” she said, with as much authority as she could manage, and jerked away from the man. “I'm warning you.”

“About what?” said the guy in the suit. His smile turned condescending. “You're unarmed, Agent Keen.”

“But not empty-handed,” Liz snapped back. “I have the Fulcrum.”

This wiped the smile right off his face. He gestured again, and the man near her stood down. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you know,” said Liz, her heart pounding. “That other guy, the one inside, just cared about his second-rate cybernetics. I doubt the Fulcrum would be on his radar. But you seem like a guy who's in charge.”

He straightened. “Well, you're not far off. Still, Ms. Keen, I'm going to need more than a wild claim to believe you.”

“Right,” she said, nodding. “You know about my chip, I assume?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“Then would you call it a 'wild claim' when I say that wasn't the only chip someone put in me?” Liz went on.

Now his eyes widened. Then he shook his head, doing his best to regain the arrogant nonchalance he'd made use of at first. (Red was much more convincing in that, Liz thought to herself.) “Agent Keen, if you'd had access to the Fulcrum for decades, now, I –”

She interrupted. “If you think I've been fully aware of my cybernetics for that whole time, then your intelligence could use some updating.” She allowed her voice to show the bitterness she still felt about something so important having been kept from her.

The guy in the suit gave a short nod at that. “Be that as it may, I still need proof.”

“Sure,” she said, scornful. “Like I'd just go ahead and show you. Look, whoever you are, everything in the chip that monitors my organs is backed up in more than one location – and since I found out about the Fulcrum, I had that backed up, too. I think that's bad news for you. I think that means you should quit bothering me, and my friends.”

But he was shaking his head again, that condescending expression back in full force. “Ms. Keen, as far as I'm concerned, those are empty threats. You and Reddington both seem to favor them. So I'll choose to ignore your foolish words for now, and you'll be coming with me so I can find out what you really have with you – and within you.”

Well, that had been a bust. Liz tried not to show how much more terrified she was now. She stepped back, as the armed man closest to her raised his gun again. “You don't want to do this,” she said. Could she afford to shock them? Most if not all of Suit Guy's men were close enough now that she physically could. As for whether she felt like risking her secret...

Just as she had decided to go for it, to shock them all including Suit Guy, and damn the consequences, the sounds of many more vehicles arriving became audible. Multiple sets of headlights began to shine from the road, as well. Liz took advantage of the distraction of the others to strike at her nearest opponent, punching him hard in the nose. Then she ducked down and grabbed the weapon she'd dropped earlier.

By the time she'd stood up again, Suit Guy was shouting at his men, and the one she'd punched was also struggling to his feet, blood dripping down his face. But there was a small convoy of cars pulling up at the same time. And one of them, she saw with profound relief, was a familiar black Mercedes. The arrival was enough to spur Suit Guy to gather his men around him.

Liz wasn't surprised that a man like this would be genuinely alarmed at Red's approach, but she still found it odd for him to have given up so easily in trying to force her into doing what he wanted. No one seemed to be covering her, now, and something told her things couldn't be that smooth here. Her hunch seemed confirmed by the way Red's expression stilled into something she recognized as fear and rage when he got out of the car and then looked at her. What had he seen? His gaze was... She looked down at herself, only to see the red dot of a sniper on her chest. _Oh._

When Red spoke, there was little of his usual ease and command of the situation. “Peter. You cannot do this. I don't need to tell you what the consequences would be.”

Peter (as Suit Guy's name was, apparently) just smirked. “Oh? Well, the way I see it, nothing too drastic needs to happen here. If Agent Keen agrees to come with me, and you don't interfere, no one gets hurt.”

“That is not going to happen,” Red said, his voice dangerously low. Dembe had gotten out, as well, and had his weapon aimed at Peter.

“Isn't it?” asked Peter. “I could also give the order for my sniper to aim pick a different target. You, for example. In fact, that's the order I've given him in case anything happens to me here.”

Liz felt cold all over. She was starting to find it hard to breathe, and she knew it had nothing to do with her cybernetics. “No,” she said, voice choked. “I'll – I'll go with you.”

Red's eyes widened. “Elizabeth, no,” he said. “Stay where you are.”

She shook her head. “I'm not letting this happen.” Of that, she was sure.

Peter's smirk grew. “Good. Then –”

At that moment, a gunshot split the air.


	4. Chapter 4

~~~~~~

Liz froze, waiting for the pain of the impact. Yet when she looked down, not only was there no wound on her front, but the sniper's dot was gone, too. The relief was literally enough that she almost lost her footing. And Red was all right, too. He was making his way over to her, Dembe at his back.

“Lizzie,” he said urgently, “let's get you out of here.”

“What happened?” she said blankly. “I thought...” But she allowed him to guide her toward his car. She saw that Peter and his men were dispersing, as well.

“I believe that was one of your coworkers who took out the sniper,” Red said, opening her door for her.

That was when she noticed that she could hear sirens getting closer. “Oh. Right.” She shivered as she sat down. When Red got in on the other side, she looked at him. “Red, I... I think I made everything worse.”

“What do you mean?”

The car started to move, and Liz clasped her hands together in her lap. “I did. I just wanted to make that guy in the suit leave me alone, but... I told him I have the Fulcrum.”

Red's eyes widened. “Did he believe you?”

“I don't know,” she said. “I don't think so. At least, he acted like he didn't. He said, uh, you and I both like to make empty threats.”

Red frowned. “I see.”

She swallowed, now shifting positions so she could fold her arms across her chest. “I know I shouldn't have said it. Now he – now the whole Cabal is going to be after me, even more than before.” Her throat tightened at the thought.

“If it delayed the moment that he forced you away at gunpoint, then I'm glad of that,” said Red. “However, you're right that it may lead to some complications.” He was silent for a moment. “Before we continue this conversation, Lizzie, may I suggest you call your partner to inform him that you're safe?”

“They took my phone,” she said. But that did sound like a good idea. Of course. She silently accepted the phone Red offered, then dialed Ressler's number. “Hi.”

“Liz? Are you okay?”

She closed her eyes as she imagined his worried face. “Um, yeah. I'm fine. I'm with Red. We got away.”

“Okay,” he said, with an audible exhale. “Okay. Well, I'm glad to hear that. Cooper will want to talk to you.”

“Oh,” said Liz. She'd forgotten that having the FBI come to the scene must have meant they knew about her unsanctioned op. “Yeah. I can do that.” Reddington gestured to take the phone back, at that. “I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Good.” Liz felt herself smile a bit as she handed the phone back to Red. Just hearing his voice had helped her feel a little less untethered.

“Donald, much as I appreciate the FBI's intervention, I hope Agent Keen's testimony won't be needed immediately,” Red was saying. He paused for Ressler's response. “Of course not. You can tell Harold she'll be in to see him soon enough.” Then he hung up and passed the phone back over the seat to Dembe.

Liz thought she should probably be irritated that Red had just decided what she was doing for her, without asking. But she was tired, and the idea of being grilled over her actions (as justified as her boss would be in doing that) right now was enough to make her want to hide.

“Are you all right?” Red said then.

“Uh...” She tried to take stock. “My arm hurts, but I think it will be fine. They cleaned it and put a bandage on.”

“I'm pleased to hear it, but that's not what I was referring to,” he said gently.

She rubbed her hands over her face. “I don't even know,” she admitted. “I didn't exactly get a lot of useful intelligence in a few hours. And I don't even think I could count that as going undercover, since nobody believed I was ready to be recruited. So I feel... like I just made everything worse, like I said.”

“There was no time to set up a real undercover op,” said Red. “I should have seen how fast things were moving, and we should have forgotten that whole idea. But don't be too hard on yourself. I have a hunch your friends at the Post Office may have gotten something out of this whole experience – something that could be very useful indeed.”

“What's that?”

He gave her a long look. “For now, suffice it to say that drawing Peter Kotsiopulos into the open is not something I expected to happen this soon.”

“And who is he? I could tell he must be high up in the Cabal,” she said.

“He's the Director of National Intelligence,” said Red. “And yes, he does hold a high position, for the moment.”

Liz blinked. The Director of National Intelligence worked for the Cabal? That was... Well, she supposed it wasn't too shocking, given that the Chief, whoever he really was, claimed to work for the CIA. “And now we can prove his involvement with this shadow government?”

“Now we may be on our way,” said Red, with a nod.

Liz yawned, then, putting a hand to her mouth. “I'm sorry. I know this is a big deal.”

He shook his head. “You've had quite the day. I can hardly take your exhaustion personally. Shall I have Dembe drop you off at Donald's apartment?”

Part of her felt anxious about that, but she couldn't think of any real reason for the feeling. “Uh, yeah.” She did need sleep, and that was the most logical place to get it. “Thank you.”

As they pulled up outside Ressler's apartment complex, something occurred to Liz. “Red?”

“Yes, Lizzie?” He eyed her attentively.

“Um, will there still – Do you still have security, watching me?”

His expression softened. “Yes, though I can only apologize for how inadequate that protection turned out to be earlier today.”

She shook her head. “No, that's not – I mean, good. Thank you.” Even if Red's people hadn't prevented today's events, the thought of being without them now, now that the Cabal thought she had the Fulcrum, would have felt much worse. She sighed, then got out of the car. “Good night.”

“Good night, Lizzie,” said Red, and Dembe echoed the words before the car drove off.

Liz made her way to Ressler's apartment, let herself in, and locked the door again behind her. To her surprise and relief, she found her service weapon on the dresser in the bedroom. Ressler must have picked it up outside Red's safe house. It was missing several rounds now, but at least she hadn't lost it. And she had to admit having a gun close at hand as she got ready for bed was comforting.

~~~~~~

Ressler wasn't shocked to discover Liz in bed and asleep when he got home. As much as he wanted to talk with her, she had to need rest more than anything. He watched her breathe peacefully for a minute in the darkened room. He'd been afraid that he might not ever see her again. He hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, or spend time thinking about the prospect, but it had truly been terrifying.

But she was here now. And she'd said she was fine. They had a lot to deal with, still, but at least they'd be dealing with it together. As he took a quick shower, he let himself relax, reminding his own brain and heart that things were going to be okay. When he climbed in next to Liz, and she rolled over to face him without waking, that seemed to be extra proof.

A few hours later, however, things didn't look so rosy. Ressler woke up and immediately noticed that the other side of the bed was empty. When he stretched out to feel where Liz had been, the sheets were cool to the touch. “Liz?” he said quietly. He sat up. He was about to turn on the bedside lamp when he realized there was faint light coming in under his bedroom door. Maybe she'd just gotten hungry, or something.

Still. He wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep until he knew for sure what was going on. So he got out of bed and went to the door, opening it. “Liz?”

“Ressler?” There was a single light on in the living room. It looked like Liz was sitting on the couch.

“Hey, what's up?”

The breath that he heard her draw then was loud and uneven, and his pulse sped up. “I... I couldn't sleep,” she said, and her voice was tense. “I'm sorry if I woke you up.”

“No, you didn't.” He didn't think she had, exactly. He took a few steps closer, and took in the sight of her, her knees drawn up to her chest with her arms clasped around them. “Are you okay?” He walked around until he was in front of the couch.

“I made things worse today, Ressler,” she said, and he realized that her eyes were wide, and that she kept moving them around the room. “The Cabal's going to be after me, even more than they already were.”

Ressler had a very bad feeling about this, whatever was going on here. Then he happened to drop his gaze to the coffee table, where he saw Liz's gun sitting, unholstered, right in front of her. Yeah, this was bad. He had an idea that this was the kind of thing Liz would normally be a lot better at dealing with in someone else – he had no psych experience to go from here. But he would try. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?” He kept his voice even with effort.

She swallowed audibly, lifting up one hand to rub along the back of her neck. “I shouldn't even be here. I was going to leave. I don't want to bring them to you. You shouldn't have to be part of this.” Her words were quick, almost frantic.

“Whoa, Liz, I – I'm going to be a part of this. We're partners. Right?” He wished he knew if he should get closer to her, or if she would view that as a threat.

She gave a short nod. “I know. But they can't track you. Not like me. I'm a danger.”

God, the fear in her eyes and her voice. Ressler forced himself to keep breathing, to keep talking calmly. “I thought your doctor had made it harder for anyone to track you.”

“But they have even more motivation now,” Liz insisted. “They'll figure out how to get around it. Maybe they already have.” Her gaze went toward the front door. Then she scoffed. “No, they don't even need that. They probably already know about you and me.”

Was it selfish of him to wish she was just having a nightmare, instead of this? He was pretty decent at dealing with her nightmares, by this point. “So what do you think we should do?” he asked. Honestly, he had no idea.

Her eyes went to her gun for several seconds. “They're not going to catch me sleeping,” she vowed, moving so that she was sitting up straighter on the couch. “Not this time.” She shuddered, then reached for the gun and brought it to her lap.

Ressler wish he'd picked it up as soon as he'd seen it, but he didn't know how she would have reacted. It was too late, now. “Okay,” he said, deciding he could probably risk sitting down in the chair opposite. The worst part of all this was, even apart from the details that he didn't know yet about today, he couldn't even legitimately argue that her paranoia was unwarranted.

“You don't have to...” Liz trailed off, frowning. She bit her lip, and then stared past him for a minute. When her gaze focused again, she seemed confused. “Why is this happening? I – I guess I know staying awake won't help anything, but I can't, it's like I can't stop it, I can't stop it feeling like this!”

Her voice had risen in pitch and volume. Ressler swallowed and watched her grip tighten on her gun. “Liz, I can't tell you why this is happening, but I'm here. I'll stay with you.” He could at least do that.

She nodded, and though she did not smile, she said, “I'm glad it's you here.”

He didn't know who, exactly, she was thinking about as alternatives, but given her state of mind, it couldn't be anyone she had good associations with. “Well, me, too.”

She kept breathing shallowly, and her grip on her weapon did not loosen. “Ressler. Talk to me about something. Something normal. Boring.”

He blew out a breath. “Okay. Boring. Um...” He thought for a moment. “I guess I could tell you about the last time I visited my mom's house. I spent most of the time helping her replace the tiles in her kitchen.”

There was a sound from the apartment's kitchen right then, and Liz started, gasping and turning to aim the gun toward the origin of the sound.

“It was the fridge turning on, Liz,” he said, as gently as he could. God, he didn't know what this much sustained stress would do to her. “Can I tell you my boring story now?”

She nodded again, lowering the weapon slightly.

“All right.” He took a moment to bring as many dull details to mind as possible. “So the tiles on the floor were this kind of weird, sort of yellow color before. She always hated it, but she's thrifty, and didn't want to change something that worked fine.”

“How long has she been in that house?” Liz asked, her voice still tense. Her expression, he thought, was maybe a little less afraid, though.

“Uh, let's see. It's been a while.” He continued to tell the story. She was listening. At first, it didn't seem like it was making any difference. But once he'd been talking for close to twenty minutes, straight, and occasionally answering her questions, she started to look less terrified. And eventually she set the gun back down on the table (he hoped he'd hidden how much stress that took off his own mind, right then).

His throat was starting to get dry by that point, but he didn't want to stop when it seemed like it was finally working. Clearing his throat, he went on, “It turned out having the tiles cut to all the right sizes took longer than we hoped. Have you ever heard a tile saw, by the way? It's not a nice sound.”

Liz shook her head. “Nah, we always just had carpet and linoleum, in the houses I lived in.” Her eyes went to the front door again, but it seemed like it was more out of habit than out of worry.

“Maybe that was for the best,” said Ressler, with a grimace. He continued the story, and again hid his reaction when her eyelids started to look heavy. Finally, though, he ran out of even the most mundane pieces to add. By that point, though, Liz was leaning back against the couch. She'd pulled the blanket off the back and spread it partly over herself.

In the brief silence, while he tried to think of anything else to say, Liz made a sound that was close to a real laugh.

“What?” he asked, yawning. She definitely had to be feeling better, if she could laugh.

“I was just thinking about Reddington, and all those stories he tells all the time,” she said. She shifted positions again, so that she was horizontal, with her head against the arm of the couch. “Yours really was boring, and his aren't, though I wouldn't tell him that. Anyway, it's funny because yours was still much better. For this.”

He smiled and shook his head. “I don't know whether I should thank you for that, or be offended.” But Liz didn't respond, because she was asleep.

Just to be sure she wouldn't wake up again, Ressler waited another few minutes before moving. Then he stood and went over to her. Very gently, he pulled the blanket up so that it was covering more of her. He stroked her cheek just a bit, not wanting to risk anything more.

After getting himself a glass of water and draining it, he picked up the gun from the table. He didn't want to leave her alone now. If she woke up, he wanted her to see someone she could trust. So he went and put the gun away. Then, though he could foresee the back pain that would result, he got the blanket off their bed, and brought it out to put over himself on the easy chair. “Good night, Liz,” he said in a low voice, turning off the light.

~~~~~~

Liz could smell coffee much more strongly than she usually could in the mornings, even when Ressler had been awake for a while before her. She opened her eyes and immediately realized that this was because she had been sleeping on the couch. Sitting up, she groaned at the crick in her neck. She hadn't been on the couch all night, had she?

“Hey, good morning,” said Ressler then, coming into the room. He looked tired, and also sort of... wary?

“Hi,” she said. What had happened last night? She remembered Red dropping her off, and then... Oh. She'd woken up suddenly, hours later, afraid. And then... She sucked in a breath. “What did I – Oh, God.” She looked around the room. It looked much the same as it always did, but she remembered holding on to her gun, sure that someone was going to attack at any moment. “I didn't shoot anything last night, did I?”

His eyes widened. “No, Liz,” he said quickly. “You were pretty freaked out, but nothing happened.”

Groaning again, Liz dropped her face into her hands. In the light of day, though the situation was still serious, her paranoia seemed, well, bordering on insane. Almost immediately, she knew that was unfair to herself. But knowing it didn't mean her shame magically vanished.

“You want some coffee?”

That question, so extremely normal, made her look up. She scoffed, but managed something like a smile. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He left and came back in with a mug in each hand. They each drank in silence for a few minutes. Then Liz set down her cup. She had a quick flash of putting her gun in the same position, and shook her head. “Ressler, I'm sorry. I – I wish you'd never had to deal with that, with me like that.” She stared down at her hands. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away.

She heard him sigh. “I was scared. I'll admit that.”

Her heart sank. She looked up, rubbing her scar. “I'm sorry,” she repeated, and her voice cracked in spite of herself.

“I was scared that I wasn't going to get it right. That I might do or say something that would make you feel worse,” he said.

Now the tears were back. “Damn it, Ressler. I'm trying not to cry, here, and then you have to go and say something so perfect.” She wiped her face.

When he laughed, it sounded startled. “Okay. So, now should I say 'you're welcome', or 'sorry'?”

She snorted. “Seriously, Ressler.” She took a deep breath, and then drank another swallow of coffee. “Of all the things to be afraid of, that was probably the least likely. So thank you for talking to me.”

He nodded firmly. “I'm really glad I could help at all.” Then he set his own mug down. “I also hope you can talk to me about what's wrong. I mean, you said you'd made everything worse. That sounded... specific. And it sounded like something I need to know about.”

It was her turn to sigh. “You're right. I think I need breakfast first, though, if you can wait a little while.”

When they'd both finished eating, Liz looked at her phone. They had about fifteen minutes before it would be a good idea to leave to get to work. “Okay. So, you remember when I told you about that blackmail file that the Cabal thinks Reddington has, that's the reason they haven't come at him head on?”

Ressler raised his eyebrows. “Uh huh. I'm not going to forget that anytime soon.”

“Well, I may not have mentioned that Red doesn't actually know where it is, but what he does know is that I may have had it at some point,” said Liz. Thankfully, talking about this wasn't making her any more nervous than it would normally. Not that she wasn't going to bring up her nighttime episode in her next therapy session, but it didn't seem to be hanging on today, at least.

“What? _You?_ How the hell would you have it?”

“I don't know,” said Liz. “I guess my mother could have hidden it with me somehow. Anyway, Red didn't want anyone else to think that. Obviously. He didn't want me to be a target. But here's where I screwed up: when I was trying to get away, yesterday, without letting anyone get any details about my cybernetics, I told someone who's pretty high up in the Cabal that I do have it. That it's... in me.”

Ressler was speechless for a minute. Then he swore, with feeling, before asking, “Did this Cabal guy believe you?”

Liz shook her head. “That might be the worst part. He didn't really believe me, but now both Red and I are most definitely targets. And if Red's right about who that guy was, you and the rest of the task force are going to be dragged into the arena, too.” She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “And if that happens, I couldn't forgive myself.”

“If that happens, we'll all fight together,” said Ressler. He reached out his hand and laid it on top of hers. “And I'm not sorry if you saying you had this file made this Cabal guy hold off for even a second.”

Even though both Red and Ressler had said that, now, Liz wasn't so ready to let herself off the hook. Especially with Ressler, she wasn't sure he knew what he was being dragged into – since she barely knew, herself. But she did agree with her partner that if they could bring the rest of the team in on this, getting them as prepared as possible, that was an encouraging thought. Since it was too late to wish none of them had to face this, she hoped Red didn't have any objection to bringing everyone in now.

~~~~~~

It was no shock that Cooper wanted to see Liz and Ressler in his office first thing. Red wasn't there at the moment, but she doubted he'd have been surprised to hear it, either, based on what Ressler had told her about how he and Reddington had broached the subject of her undercover op with Cooper. So Liz had a pretty clear idea of how she was going to do this.

“Agent Keen,” said Cooper, when she came in. “Are you feeling all right?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Good. Then maybe you can fill me in on this operation you undertook yesterday, and your connection with this conspiracy that Reddington told me about.”

“They're interested in me for a few reasons,” Liz admitted. “And I didn't know about any of them before this year.”

Cooper's expression was inscrutable. “Keen, you've been a good agent and an irreplaceable member of this team, which is why I'm reserving judgement on your motives until I hear more of the story. But I'd prefer if you stick with the facts, first, before offering excuses about why you've kept this a secret.”

Liz flushed. She opened her mouth to retort that it wasn't an excuse, but then bit it back. That wouldn't help her case here. “All right. I guess I'll start out by showing you some proof of what I'm going to talk about. Otherwise, I know it sounds like a tall tale.” She rolled her sleeves down partway, then pressed the buttons on her bracelets, before putting on the gloves.

She felt Cooper and Ressler watching her carefully, but didn't look up. Instead, she said, “Here goes.” Then she sent a charge from her right glove to her left. She looked up as she repeated the action from left to right. Finally, she lowered her arms back to her sides.

Cooper's mouth was open. He looked more shaken than she had ever seen him. After several seconds, he breathed, “How in God's name is this possible?”

“This is a pretty recent development, actually,” said Liz, gesturing with her gloved hands. “But it's possible because of something that happened to me when I was a little girl.” She took the gloves off and put them away, aware that Cooper had started to look nervous.

“And you knew about this, Agent Ressler?” said Cooper, his gaze shifting to her partner.

“Yes, sir,” said Ressler. “But I fully understand why Keen has kept it a secret.”

Cooper shook his head, still amazed. “Then please continue, Agent Keen.”

Liz gave a quick summary of the fire, and of how it had almost killed her. Then she explained about her father's research into cybernetics. She included how she'd added to them just recently, which gave her the ability she'd just demonstrated. “I don't know if you ever heard anything about the US trying to make enhanced soldiers or spies during the Cold War, but that's how this Cabal Reddington knows about comes in.”

“I've heard rumors,” Cooper replied, thoughtful now. “I suppose you'll tell me that this ties in to why Reddington asked for you when he turned himself in, too.”

“Yes, sir,” said Liz. She exchanged looks with Ressler, whose expression was encouraging. “He knew my father. He knew about my father's work, so he knew about me. But neither he nor my dad wanted any government to control it.”

Her abbreviated recap was almost done, but Cooper had picked up on it when she'd mentioned that Cabal had more than one reason to be interested in Liz. “What was the other reason?”

She sighed. “I don't know if Reddington would expect me to tell you this. But I trust you. I think he does, too, as much as he trusts anyone. Sir, the other reason is because Reddington knew my parents – my birth parents. They were in the intelligence game while he was, except they were Russian.” She didn't know whether Cooper would have heard of Katarina Rostova, but she decided not to get that specific unless it was really necessary. “And then, uh, my mother ended up turning, and she used a blackmail file with dirt on the Cabal to try to leverage herself to safety.”

Liz really wished she could hold Ressler's hand while Cooper pondered this story. But if there were going to be severe consequences for the rules she'd broken, she didn't want to emphasize her partner's involvement. His only faults had been supporting her. He didn't deserve to lose his job if she lost hers.

“This is a lot to take in, Agent Keen,” said Cooper, after several minutes of silence. “And I know you're aware that you've technically broken several laws – as well as encouraging your partner to do the same.”

“Yes, sir, but none of this was his fault,” she said.

“It wasn't hers, either,” Ressler put in, with an irritated glance at her. “Sir, no one ever told Liz about her past, so there was no real crime in her using the identity she's had all her life. She wasn't lying when she said she didn't know why Reddington asked for her, either. And as for the unregistered medical research –”

“Agent Ressler,” Cooper interrupted, “your partner has made it clear that she needs the work of this doctor in order to survive. I understand the implications, and I choose to believe she's not lying about how important it is for her.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Liz. She cleared her throat. “I planned to tell you eventually, even without what happened yesterday.”

Her boss nodded. “We still need to get into that. Meanwhile, I can tell you that I won't be alerting anyone about your doctor, Liz. Nor will I ask you to reveal his name or location. Whatever reports I end up writing about all this, that issue won't be included.”

“Thank you,” she managed again, more moved than she'd expected she might be.

“You're welcome,” he said, with a smile. “As for your identity, I don't see why it has to change. I won't be the one to start digging through and looking for a reason to challenge the legality of your adoption, or anything like that.”

Ressler reached out to grab her hand and squeeze it, then, before releasing it again. Liz was finding it difficult to speak by this point, but she did give Cooper a grateful if shaky smile in return.

“Now,” he said, straightening. “I'd like to hear your report on the results of your infiltration of this group.”

“Is Reddington here yet?” she asked. “Based on what he told me last night, I think he'll have some important input.”

Cooper raised his eyebrows. “All right. Then let's find out.”

As it turned out, Red did make his entrance at about that time. First, he spoke privately with Liz, Ressler, and Cooper for a few minutes. Liz was both relieved and more worried when the consensus was, in fact, to bring the rest of the team in.

“We can do that through the next Blacklister,” was Red's remark. “Although there won't be anything normal about this one.”

In fact, Red introduced their target by asking Aram to pull up the satellite footage from yesterday. “Specifically, I'm interested the footage from roughly five minutes before the FBI showed up at the compound.”

“Sure,” said Aram, focusing on his computer.

A minute later, the video began to play. Liz recognized Suit Guy's car, and the figure next to the hedge had to be her.

“Now, can you zoom in on the man in front of the others, there?” said Red, pointing to the correct spot.

Aram nodded and typed in a few commands. He played the footage back again until a clear image showed up. “There we go. Who is he? I mean, obviously, other than some guy who was involved in kidnapping Agent Keen.”

Red smiled faintly. “His name is Peter Kotsiopulos, but I doubt very much that you'll find much current information on him. The CIA doesn't usually take kindly to people investigating the Director of National Intelligence.”

There was a short pause. Then Aram spoke up. “I'm sorry – what?”

“Sir, what is this?” said Samar, looking from Cooper to Liz to Ressler.

“This, Agent Navabi, is a watershed moment,” Red said.

“Reddington is right,” said Cooper. “What we have here is proof that at least one high-ranking official in our government is working for his own illegal agenda. That makes this a very dangerous line of investigation. Now is the time for anyone who is uncomfortable with the risk to take him or herself out of it, with no questions asked or penalties given.”

“But... this guy really was involved in Agent Keen's kidnapping?” said Aram, after another short silence.

“I would wager that he might well have ordered it,” said Red.

Aram swallowed, and then looked at Liz. “Well, then, I'm in.”

“So am I,” said Ressler, also meeting her eyes. “In case you need to hear me say it.”

“I'm guessing that you're alleging that this goes deeper than just this... Kotsiopulos, though?” said Samar, her arms crossed as she stared at Reddington.

“That's correct,” said Red. “This rot spreads from coast to coast and up to highest echelons. In fact, it spreads well beyond the borders of this country, but we'll start where we are.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “The point is, no one's exaggerating the scope of this. I'm not going to think less of anyone who doesn't want to be involved. I haven't known about this group for long, but it didn't take me any time to realize how serious they are about protecting their interests.”

She was sure Samar had more questions, but for the moment, the Mossad agent accepted this. “I see. Then I'll join this effort, as well.”

Red took a moment to meet their gazes in turn. “Good. Then welcome to life outside the realm of the black and white you're used to. Well, perhaps most of you, anyway,” he added blandly. “It's time to reconsider who you trust, and start making a habit of looking over your shoulder.”

“Right,” said Ressler, “but first things first: how are we going to go after the Director?”

Red smiled at him. “We'll start small. However, I assure you, Donald: when the real blow is struck, I intend it to be perfectly catastrophic.”

Ressler did not look comforted by this assertion. Liz wasn't, either, but in spite of the dangers to herself and her friends, she was more than ready to go on the offensive. It was past time for these people to know what it was like to live in the kind of fear they evidently loved to create.


	5. Chapter 5

~~~~~~

Before their long day was over, Liz made a point to pull Red aside. “There are a couple of things I really need to talk to you about,” she said.

Red nodded. “I have some rather important business to attend to right now, but it shouldn't take me more than a few hours. Shall I call you when I'm done?”

She sighed. She wanted to get some resolution as soon as possible, but Red wouldn't just blow her off. That meant his business was undoubtedly important. “Okay.”

“You can always call if it's urgent, Lizzie,” he added, looking concerned.

“I'll talk to you later,” was her response, before she left him to whatever it was.

By the time she and Ressler left, the team had made a good start on gathering evidence against the Director. Aram even thought they'd hid the traces of their investigation well enough that they might escape notice. But Liz had to hope Red's personal angle was a little more aggressive. If the Director knew their team had seen him at the base yesterday, she couldn't imagine him waiting before he struck.

She was distracted as she and Ressler ate dinner. But it did no good to worry. She gave herself a mental shake before Ressler really noticed anything. It would be much better to make an effort take this all in, to make the most of this nice, normal evening with her partner, her boyfriend, before everything hit the fan.

So dinner passed pleasantly. It felt like it took a lot of effort to relax – she had one drink with her food, but she was expecting to have to go out again, so that was going to be it – but Ressler's relief and happiness at her mood was obvious. It was worth it.

When her phone rang at about eight o'clock, Ressler frowned. “Do you have to answer it? Can't he wait?”

Liz bit her lip. “I wish this could wait,” she said. She'd told him that Red had been the one to set up this meeting. It was better than trying to explain her reasons for it. “But I don't think it should take too long.” Either Red would be ready to answer the questions she had in mind, or she'd at least get him to start thinking about it. She answered the phone.

“Lizzie, did you plan for Donald to be a part of this meeting?” Red wanted to know, after he'd informed her that his business was complete for the evening.

“No,” she said, shooting Ressler a look. “I'd rather not.”

“I see,” Red said. “In that case, given recent events, I'll send a car to pick you up.”

Liz sighed. She doubted the Cabal had men waiting outside for a chance to pounce – it wasn't like she was in some kind of fortress at the moment. But if she was going to be arguing with Red tonight, she wanted to save her breath for something more urgent. “Fine.”

“Good,” said Red. “Then Dembe will be there in a few minutes.”

“He's sending Dembe to pick me up,” said Liz, when she'd hung up her new phone. “I decided it was too much trouble to argue.”

Ressler raised his eyebrows, and then nodded. “Probably a good call. See you later, Liz.”

About fifteen minutes later, Liz arrived at yet another in the line of nondescript houses that Red liked to make use of. Dembe escorted her inside, where Liz was not surprised to see another of Red's men had been standing guard in Dembe's absence. “Good evening, Lizzie,” said Red, ushering her into the sitting room. “What's on your mind?”

She sat down on the couch, which was a bizarre shade of green she didn't remember ever seeing on furniture before.

“Yes, I'm afraid the owner of this house is quite color blind,” said Red, following her gaze and wincing.

Liz snorted. “Yeah.” Then she sat forward. “So, I'm glad we're fighting this. But I want to be ready in case it doesn't go how we hope it will. I'm not getting my friends killed. If we get to a point where it would make sense, where the Cabal would follow me and give my friends a break, then I want to be ready to disappear, to lead them away.”

Red didn't speak immediately. He looked very serious. “Lizzie, you're asking me to turn you into a fugitive. I would never choose that life for you.”

“I wouldn't, either,” said Liz. “I really hope this is all theoretical.” Remembering her traumatic episode last night, she stared down at her hands. Would she even be mentally equipped for a life on the run? She had been thinking that she would do it on her own, after Red's help with the initial disappearance. But maybe that was hopelessly out of reach. If this even happened.

“And I suppose you've already considered that you would place Donald in a very difficult position. In such a theoretical situation, he would doubtless be asked to hunt you, even if he wasn't under direct suspicion for his ties to you.”

Liz nodded, not looking up. “I know. But if he'd be safe, then...” Her voice wavered, and she stopped and swallowed. “Then it would be the right thing to do.”

“Even though I doubt you've discussed this with him, and agreed together upon this possible action?” Red shook his head when she didn't respond. “Regardless of the circumstances, of course I would help you with any means at my disposal. Perhaps it won't surprise you to learn that I already have passports and various other identification for you, in preparation for a day which I devoutly hope does not arrive.”

She blinked. Upon reflection, he was right: that wasn't surprising. “Okay. Well, good.” She smoothed her hands down the legs of her jeans. “Then I guess we'll just keep hoping not to have to use those.”

Red nodded. “Was there something else?” He looked concerned again, as he had earlier. “You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like, but you should also try to get some rest.”

Liz grimaced. Easier said than done, she thought but did not say out loud. “I know. Uh, yes, I just had one more question: if you did have the Fulcrum, you'd be using it now, wouldn't you?”

He stood and picked up a glass that was on the cabinet a few feet away. After taking a sip of the beverage inside, he sighed. “The fact that I haven't is certainly why the Director has felt so confident in moving against me, and against you. Yes, I would have already begun to disseminate the information the Fulcrum contains, if I had it in my possession.”

She chewed her lip. That was what she'd thought. “Is there... Isn't there some way, some person you know, who could make me remember the night of the fire? That would have to help us figure out where the Fulcrum went.”

Red had paled as she spoke, and now his expression was deadly serious. “No, Lizzie. That was a terrible night that no child should ever have gone through. It's a blessing that you can't remember. Even if there was someone who could bring those memories back for you, I wouldn't allow it.”

Liz clenched her fists. “I know about the fire. I know my parents died, and I almost died, too! Obviously I get that more details wouldn't be fun, but this is important!”

“I fully realize that. The answer is no,” Red repeated. He finished his drink.

Liz stared for a moment, then stood up. “You told me I'm ready to know this stuff. We just started to make plans together to fight against the Cabal, and then, what? I don't even get a real reason from you?”

Red said nothing. As usual, he seemed unmoved by her anger.

“Okay,” she said. “Then, good night.”

"Good night, Lizzie." She could feel his eyes on her as she left, though he said nothing more.

She had only cooled off a little by the time Dembe dropped her off back home. Mostly, she was baffled. Well, still frustrated, too. She felt like she and Red had been understanding each other better than ever, recently. But all it had taken was one quick exchange to remind her that he still had secrets about her life, and he still wouldn't even explain what it was that made him so resolved not to tell her.

Ressler was watching something on TV when she came in, but he greeted her and then turned it off. “Hey, how'd it go?”

She sighed and came to sit down next to him on the couch. “Well... so-so, I guess. We talked a little strategy, and then I asked something that had to do with my past, and he refused to answer. So I left.”

Ressler raised his eyebrows, and then nodded. “Ah. Sounds fun.”

She rolled her eyes and then leaned against his shoulder. “Super fun.”

After a pause, during which Liz just breathed deeply and enjoyed the feel of him next to her, he spoke again. “So, I was watching the most recent _Star Trek_ movie – at least I think it's the most recent one. I can turn it back on, if you want.”

She shook her head. “No. Actually, I was thinking about something else.” Then she got up just long enough to reposition herself in his lap, and kissed him soundly. There was a chance she would have to leave him soon. She didn't want to waste any time they had together.

“Mmm,” said Ressler, a little breathless, when they came apart. “Well, I like the way you're thinking, Keen.”

She smirked. “Do you? Then show me.”

They made their way back to the bedroom. But before they moved to the bed, Ressler reached out to stop her as she was about to remove her bracelets and the wires they connected to. “Do you mind if we try it with your 'cape' still on, this time?”

Liz raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” This version, at least, was more flush with her body than the prototype had been. Still... “Sure, but if either of us gets tangled in the wires, that's going to put a damper on the mood.”

He kissed her again, and then traced one of the wires down her arm briefly. “Got it. We'll try to avoid that. I just happen to find it hot, that you're a superhero. Can't help it.”

She giggled. “Groupie.” If she'd ever felt super or heroic, it wasn't right now, but he meant what he said, and that was enough for her to forget her worries for the moment.

“As long as I'm your only one,” he said, grinning back.

“Of course,” she confirmed, before shoving him lightly toward the bed.

~~~~~~

Somehow, the calm before the inevitable storm lasted at least one more day of work. Reddington informed the team that their work plus that of his people was enough for a first blow to be dealt perhaps as soon as the next day. With that said, Liz had asked if they shouldn't just keep working longer that night, to be ready as soon as possible.

“I appreciate the thought,” had been his response, “but the lion's share of what is yet undone involves activities my people are better suited for. I recommend you and Donald go home and relax.” He had smiled at her, though she sensed his own exhaustion and anxiety behind it.

So, since they'd already talked about it together, Liz decided she'd spend some of that evening officially moving in with her partner. Her old motel room was bleak and suffocating. Nothing about it made her life better – not even safer. There was no point not trying to take this chance to be happier, with Ressler.

It didn't take long. She would leave the larger items still in storage where she'd put them after Tom. That meant just a little over an hour to get her stuff together, pile it into her car, and take it over. She turned in her room key without a trace of regret.

It wasn't until she was back at the apartment, and had started to put her boxes away that it happened. She had picked up her old stuffed rabbit and run a hand over it, still wondering if there was any way to jog her memories of that night. Ressler came in just then. “Who's your friend?” he asked.

She looked up from where she was sitting on the floor next to his closet. “I've had this thing for as long as I can remember,” she said. “He must have had a name at some point, but I've forgotten it.”

“Did your dad get him for you?” Ressler asked, sitting down next to her.

“No, see, that's why he's such a big deal,” she said. “I don't know who got him for me, but I do remember, kind of, that I had him on the night of the fire that killed my parents.”

“Huh.” Ressler held out his hand, and she passed it over. He touched the singed areas. “This guy's been through a lot with you, then.”

“Yeah.”

Then Ressler's hand stilled. “Huh, that's weird. It feels like there's something here.” He touched an area on the seam of the rabbit.

“Let me see,” she said, and took it back when he offered it. “What the hell? How could I have never noticed?” There was definitely something hard underneath the worn fabric. “Okay. We're going to figure out what it is.” She sat back against the wall and carefully worked at the seam. She didn't want to totally destroy the stuffed animal in this process.

When she pulled out the tiny object, Liz gasped. Was it possible that after all this time and all the fear associated with this saga... “This has to be it,” she said, opening the little black box up. It just looked like some kind of computer chip, but that made sense. “The Fulcrum.”

“Oh my God,” said Ressler. “In your stuffed animal? Seriously? Did your parents put it there, then?”

Liz raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "Maybe."

"That seems like it would be a hell of a risk," he said. "I mean, how did they know you'd keep this particular toy? And why give it to a kid, anyway?"

"No idea," said Liz. She wished she could imagine the thought process of a person who would make those decisions. "Anyway." She closed the little box again and stood up, the spell of wonder broken as she remembered just how important this was. “I have to call Red.”

Dembe took a little longer to answer than usual, which worried her. Once she'd explained that she had found something very important that Red would want to see, however, he passed the phone to the man.

“Lizzie,” said Red's voice, “Dembe tells me you've made a discovery?”

“Well, it was me and Ressler, actually, but yes,” she said. “And I think you need to see it right away.”

“Then I'll give you my current address,” said Red, businesslike and pleasant, as if this wasn't a life or death situation.

A few minutes later, she and Ressler were on their way to the spot Red had told them to meet. Liz was carrying the Fulcrum in a hardcover case that had once held some other small piece of technology. Ressler was driving. Liz tried not to clutch the case too obsessively close, but it was difficult not to.

She hoped that her strong feeling that someone was watching them as they got out and then went inside the building was just her imagination. It wasn't that she enjoyed the paranoia – on the contrary – but if there actually were people watching, that had to be worse.

Still, they entered what turned out to be an empty office building with no overt signs of anything to worry about. Red and Dembe met them promptly. “Is this it? The Fulcrum?” Liz asked, her heart pounding, as she opened the case.

Red nodded. He looked back up at the two of them, his face a mask. “Where did you find it?”

“It was inside my old stuffed rabbit,” said Liz. “The one I've had forever. I don't know how I never noticed it, but Ressler did.”

Tilting his head, Red glanced between them. “That is very interesting.”

She couldn't tell whether he meant where it was, or that Ressler had found it. It didn't matter. “So what happens next?”

“Next, if you'll allow me to have it, I can begin to work on releasing the information contained inside. I'm under no delusion that doing so will destroy the Cabal, but it should damage them and force them to retreat,” said Red. “With any luck, the work we've all done against the Director will then become part of the death blow.”

Liz shut the case, but held it out toward him. “Okay.”

He accepted it. “Thank you, Lizzie. And thank you, Donald, for your help.”

Liz watched her partner look surprised. That was probably more complimentary than Red ever was to him – with no added sarcasm. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but nodded.

“Now, I don't mean to interrupt the two of you as you sort out any last details of Elizabeth's move, but it would be timely if the FBI could begin looking for a man named Leonard Caul,” said Red.

“Leonard Caul?” Liz frowned. “Who's he?” Of course Red knew that she was moving, even though she hadn't said anything about it to him. If nothing else, her security detail would have to know, she supposed.

“A very intelligent and secretive person,” said Red. “And it's only logical that he would be secretive, as the person who created the Fulcrum.”

They walked out of the building. Liz opened her mouth to ask another question, but that was when the shot came. It was so close that her whole head resonated with it. Yet even as she felt Ressler pull her down behind their SUV, she saw that the bullet had hit Red. There was blood starting to pour from a wound terrifyingly close to his heart.

She was pretty sure she screamed something, but she couldn't hear much over the ringing in her ears. Still, she noticed as a few more bullets were fired, even as she focused on the sight of Dembe trying to pull his boss to the cover of his own car. She, Ressler, and even Dembe tried returning fire, but she strongly doubted that they hit anything useful.

Finally, whoever it was seemed to pause, and Liz shook off Ressler trying to hold her back. Still making sure to stay covered, she ran to help Dembe lift Red into the back of the Mercedes. He couldn't die. He couldn't. It wasn't _allowed_.

She was in the back with him, putting pressing on the wound, before she realized that Ressler had joined her there. “We have to call this in, Keen,” he was saying.

“No,” Dembe said firmly, glancing back at them in the rearview mirror as they sped away from the scene. “I need one of you to contact the team that Raymond has on call to help him. But then your phones must be disconnected, or the Cabal could track us through them.”

Ressler kept silent and followed Dembe's instructions to call for (she assumed) Red's medical team to be ready at a specific site. Liz would have done it, but both of her hands were occupied trying to keep Red from bleeding out. Afterward, however, Ressler spoke again. “If we disappear again, if you disappear again from the scene of a crime without informing Cooper, Liz, it's going to be seen as another unsanctioned op. He can't just keep letting that go.”

“Reddington's life is at stake!” she snapped back. “You heard Dembe. I don't want to bring the Cabal right to him! And I won't let you do it, either.” This was not the time for him to insist on rules that would make things much worse.

“The Cabal already knows where we are, right now,” said Ressler. “It's been all of one minute since they shot him.”

“Call Cooper,” Dembe interjected, before Ressler could continue his argument. “He should know that this is an emergency. But then you both must deactivate your phones.”

Ressler seemed mostly satisfied with that answer, and got out his phone again. Liz thought of something. “Oh, tell him to find Leonard Caul, too.” Then she turned back to Red, who was still breathing (thank God), but definitely very much out of it. “Don't die,” she said quietly, even though she knew he couldn't hear. “Hold on, Red.”


	6. Chapter 6

Time seemed to be passing in strange, blurred chunks after that. She knew her partner had made the call, and that they'd both taken the batteries out of their phones. There was a trauma team ready at the warehouse where they arrived, and she had a crystal-clear memory of Red coming awake briefly as he was transferred onto a stretcher. He had taken her hand, said something about Leonard Caul, and then given her a penetrating stare, heavy with sadness, affection, and something else.

It was only when some unknowable amount of time passed that Liz realized that something else was an apology. It had to be. She clenched her hands together, hands that she'd washed but that still felt like they had his blood on them. She was terrified that the only reason he'd apologize now, like that, would be as a good-bye.

The phantom blood on her hands also reminded her of random images from the worst of her recent nightmares. But she pushed it back. That wasn't useful. She had to be in the moment.

Another moment that was, of course, clear and memorable was when the doctor exited from the plastic tent where the surgery had been taking place. “He made it through the surgery,” said the man. “He's stable, for the time being.”

And if her knees went weak at that, she also clearly saw the relief on the faces of Dembe, Mr. Kaplan, and Ressler. She tried to speak, to ask for more details, but her throat was totally dry.

But Mr. Kaplan didn't seem to have the same problem. “What's his prognosis?”

“It's too soon to say, I'm afraid,” said the man. “If he's still stable through the next few hours, that will be a good sign.”

“Okay,” said Liz. “Okay.” She took a deep breath, then turned to Red's trusted lieutenants. “What about Leonard Caul? If we could use the Fulcrum...”

Dembe nodded. “I have a burner phone that you can use to check in with the FBI. We need to know if Caul has been found. Meanwhile, I also have something else to talk to you about.”

“I'll check in,” Ressler said. He gave her a look as if he wanted to say something else, but then just accepted the phone Dembe offered him, and stepped away.

Liz wasn't exactly excited to have Dembe urge her to leave Red to find something he described as part of the Fulcrum. But at the same time, she wasn't about to refuse to do something relatively simple that would be so important. This was especially true once Ressler ended his phone call a minute later with the disheartening news that Cooper and the team hadn't made much progress finding Caul.

So she and her partner went together to the apartment that Dembe had directed them to. As soon as she saw what kind of place it was, Liz had two simultaneous thoughts: one was that she understood why Dembe had told her Red wouldn't want her there. It was so private. It was a side of Raymond Reddington he didn't let others see. The other thought was that part of her wished she had the time to explore it thoroughly, for the same reason. She didn't doubt she could learn a lot about the man. It was especially hard to resist snooping after she'd seen the pictures of herself displayed there.

Ressler, too, seemed both bemused and intrigued. But they both pretty much stuck to the task at hand. The case Dembe had told them about was right where he'd said it would be. Liz picked it up – and then there was a sudden, shrill alarm sound. “What – ?” she started to say, before she recognized it. She felt like she had plunged into icewater.

“What is that?” Ressler asked, coming closer. “It sounds like it's –”

Liz put down the case and reached into her pocket. “My BioMonitor,” she said, typing in the code that would both shut off the alarm and let her see the details of the alarm. It took longer than it would have normally, because her hands were shaking. “Oh, God. I knew it.” This was the alarm that Terri Sievers had created to indicate if someone was trying to hack her chip. “They're looking for me. If nothing else, they have to know I'll lead them to Red.”

Ressler's eyes widened, and he glanced at the device's screen. “Let's get out of here.”

Liz followed him, but her mind was whirling. “Ressler, we have to get this thing back to Dembe, so they can work on using the Fulcrum. But I shouldn't come. I can't come. If they find Red, they'll finish him off.”

Ressler stopped, out in the hall of the apartment building. He faced her. “Liz. I'm not leaving you. You don't even know if the Cabal can get past the new security on your chip.”

She swallowed. “Yeah, but these are the kinds of people who have any resource they ask for. If they really want to, they'll crack it. Go, Ressler.” She pushed the case into his hands until he finally took it. Then she started to put on her gloves. “Please. I'm not disappearing. I'll just hide out for a while, until this is over. Red has another BioMonitor, so he or Dembe will be able to find me later.”

“This is crazy,” he protested. “Just let me help.”

She shook her head. “You are helping. Someone needs to take the case to Dembe as soon as possible.” She flexed her fingers. It seemed like it had been a while since she'd worn the entirety of her 'cape', but it still felt right. In fact, some of her shaken confidence calmed. She took a deep breath. “Look, I'm open to other suggestions, if you've got any. But we have to do this quickly.”

He swallowed, and she saw him clench his jaw. His voice was low when he spoke. “If cracking your security is as much of a sure thing as you make it out, then you should go somewhere safe. Can't you go to your doctor's office? The signal would be shielded there, right?”

“It would be,” said Liz. “I can make my way that direction.” What she didn't add was that if it felt like it was taking too long, then she'd have to start taking into consideration that she didn't want to lead the Cabal to Dr. Steiner, either.

“Then let's start back together,” said Ressler. “I shouldn't go the most direct way, anyway, in case anyone's watching us. So I can get you going, heading the right direction.”

Though she didn't want to delay and increase everyone's risk, Liz had to admit that made sense. “Okay.”

But when he stopped the car several minutes later, pulling to the side of the road in an area without much other traffic, he reached out to gently take her gloved hand in his. “Liz.” Then he paused, looking down for a moment. When he met her eyes, she could see the fear in them. “Be careful. Please. The people you're trying to save by doing this... We want you to be safe just as much as you want that for us. I mean, at least I know I do, and I bet Reddington would agree.”

She blinked back the tears that sprang up at that. Then she turned her hand so she could squeeze his. “I'll be careful. I will.” She sniffed. “So, I'll see you when this is over.” Then she leaned across to his seat and kissed him, lifting the hand he wasn't holding to stroke his face.

When they pulled back from each other, Ressler pushed a lock of her hair back behind one ear and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I'll see you then.”

Liz didn't look back once she'd left the car. She heard it pull away, though, and focused on breathing normally. She had a job to do, here. It could be the difference between a total victory for the Cabal and a decisive strike against them.

She pulled out her BioMonitor. It didn't have any new alerts, so at least she wasn't in worse straits at the moment. That was good. Pocketing the device again, she turned up the collar of her jacket and started to walk at a brisk pace in the direction of Dr. Steiner's office. She was still several miles away. Maybe she would take a taxi to close some of that distance, but maybe not.

Just a few blocks later, Liz started to feel a sensation of being watched, much as she had before giving Red the Fulcrum. Not giving any outward sign of anything, she casually turned at the next intersection she came to. Then, with a surreptitious glance to see if she could see anyone watching, she ducked into an alley after having made sure it was open at both ends.

When she cautiously made her way out the other end, and then onto the sidewalk of the adjacent street, that sensation seemed to have lessened. She exhaled. Still, just because it felt like she might be in good shape for the moment didn't mean she should relax her vigilance. So she kept going, and kept her eyes open.

It was very tempting to envy the other pedestrians and passers by, she thought. She knew they all had their own troubles, as everyone did. However, it didn't seem likely that a lot of them were in danger of being tracked by people who wanted control over them, or failing that would settle for killing them and destroying their friends.

She was waiting at another crosswalk when a quiet, male voice said, “Agent Keen, please don't turn around or react. I've heard you're looking for me.”

Liz, who had felt adrenaline flood her body at the first sentence, forced herself to breathe. Her hands twitched, and she clenched them into fists. “Who are you?”

He didn't reply immediately. “Not here.”

She pressed her lips together, turning her head slightly. The crosswalk light changed. She still couldn't see the man who was talking to her. Not from this angle. “I'm not going with you, or even talking to you, if you don't tell me who you are.”

“Let's just say that you, Raymond Reddington, and I all have the same mutual enemies,” was his reply. “And I believe you need me in order to use the best weapon you have against them.”

Liz felt her eyes widen. “Ah.” She nodded. This had to be Leonard Caul. “Then what happens now?”

“Now, I'm going to step away. In a few minutes, please go into the restaurant that's about a block behind you, on the other side of the street. I'll meet you there.”

“All right. I –” But when she turned around a little more this time, there was no one there. So, shaking off any remaining alarm, she did as the man had suggested. Very casually, as if she had just changed her mind about where she was headed, she made an unhurried one-eighty.

Then she slowly strolled in the direction she had come. It was hard to walk slowly on purpose, but she managed it until she judged it had been a few minutes, and she could see the restaurant just across the street. She walked across when the road was clear. It wasn't a regular meal time, which meant the man sitting in a booth at the back caught her attention easily.

When she walked in, he looked up and gave a slight nod. Assuming that did in fact mean it was Caul, Liz went to his booth and slid in across from him. It was only then that she saw the bandage on his throat. She swallowed convulsively.

The man just twitched his lips into a faint, wry smile and pointed at his throat. “Yes, Agent Keen, our mutual enemies weren't successful in taking me out this time, but I have no doubt they'll try again.”

She clasped her hands together, though that was a little more difficult with her gloves on. “Sir, I want to believe you, but given who these enemies are, you'll understand that I still have to ask: how do I know you are who you say you are?”

He didn't seem at all thrown by this. “Agent Keen, I know who you are, and I sought you out because I know you and your friends at the FBI are looking for me. I know you work with Raymond Reddington, but that's not your only connection to him. I'm armed, and I know you are as well. And yet, in spite of all this, I haven't threatened you once. If I were working for the Cabal, would that be true? Especially now, when they must feel like they're so close to defeating one of their greatest enemies?”

Liz pondered this, and finally nodded. “All right. We'll go with that for now.” She shifted positions slightly. “I should tell you that there's a risk I'm being electronically tracked, right now. Being near me probably won't help you stay hidden.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I had noticed the signal you seem to be giving off, and I appreciate your concern. But I made sure I was capable of jamming the signal before I contacted you.”

“You're jamming it?” Surprise made her speak louder than she'd intended, and she glanced around. No one had turned their direction. She lowered her voice. “Sorry.”

He waved that aside. “Has Reddington told you about me?”

“Yes,” she said. She was still distracted by the knowledge that, if Caul knew what he was talking about, that meant the Cabal was not able to track her at the moment, no matter how good their hacking skills were. And assuming this really was Caul, it was believable that he would know what he was talking about, if he was good enough to have created the Fulcrum. She tried to focus. “So it sounds like... Do you know about what just happened to him?”

“I do,” he said. Then he paused, as a bored-looking waitress approached. “Just coffee for me, thanks.”

“I'll take a coffee, too,” said Liz. Then, realizing how tense she already was, she added, “Decaf, please.”

The woman sighed and repeated their order before departing.

Caul waited until she was gone before leaning forward. “By your presence away from wherever he was taken, I assume he's alive.”

Thinking about how Red had looked when she and Ressler left the warehouse was still enough to bring a lump to Liz's throat. Still, she confirmed Caul's guess. “Yes. But it's critical.”

Surprisingly, their waitress brought both coffees just then, though she managed to look personally annoyed doing it. “Let me know if you two need anything else,” said the woman, then disappeared so that they wouldn't have been able to if they had wanted anything.

Caul raised an eyebrow, and then turned his attention back to Liz. “In that case, it's all the more urgent I meet with his team,” was his response. Perhaps seeing her reluctance, he sat back and took a sip of coffee. “Your caution is understandable. Prudent, in fact. So, how about if we go to a pay phone and you dial the number for Reddington's contact without me looking, before letting me talk to him? Will that be enough?”

As much as she was still nervous about it, Liz couldn't think of any better way to make it safe. So she agreed. Liz took another few sips of her coffee, which she hadn't wanted that much anyway. They each put down a few bills and then left.

Once they found a pay phone, Liz was tempted to call Ressler. He was probably worrying about her, and she would have liked to hear his voice. But, although Ressler was (as far as she knew) with Red's team, it still made the most sense to call Dembe. Caul turned away, and she dug out the necessary cash before dialing.

Dembe was concise as usual, though relieved to hear from her. There was no change in Red's condition, which she supposed was at least not bad news. She handed the receiver to Caul, and saw that he had definitely noticed her gloves as she did so. If he asked about them, she still wasn't sure what she'd say. It wouldn't be too shocking if he knew about her father's work, she guessed.

Evidently Caul passed the test. After Caul hung up, he said, “I have a car a few blocks from here. We should go.”

“You're really jamming the signal from me?” she asked.

Caul pulled a device a few inches bigger than her BioMonitor out of his pocket. “Yes.”

“Okay,” she decided. “Then let's go.”

A few minutes after they'd started the journey (Caul's car was an extremely nondescript gray sedan), he glanced at her sideways. “Maybe you think it's not my business, and that's your prerogative. But I have to admit I'm curious as to what the gloves mean – and whether they have to do with that signal.”

She bit her lip. “They are related,” she hedged. “The Cabal has more than one reason to try to track me.”

“Hmm,” was his response. He didn't push. Several minutes later, however, he made a quiet sound that could have been from annoyance. “We're being followed.”

It took a lot of self-control not to immediately crane her head around to look, but Liz stayed still. “How long have they been behind us?”

“Just a block or so,” he said. “I'll try to shake them.”

What followed was a suspenseful ten minutes in which Caul made some impressively precise maneuvers involving quick turns, some driving in reverse, and a few instances of passing other cars that made her hold back a gasp each time. For a few minutes after that, it seemed like they'd shaken their tail.

But then, just as Liz started to realize they were in a rather desolate part of town, that same car appeared behind them again. She swore under her breath. “They're back. Do you think they know that it's both of us in here?”

“Probably,” said Caul grimly.

She unholstered her gun. She had to assume there was going to be a confrontation soon. And if what she could glimpse was accurate, there were at least four people in that car. They were outnumbered. But... She glanced down at her hands. “Mr. Caul, I think you might be about to see exactly what these gloves mean.”

His eyebrows rose. “Then I'll look forward to it, especially if it gets us out of this.”

She rolled down her window. Then, just barely peering out of the window, Liz put out a hand. “Don't stop,” she said to Caul, and then focused. After a moment, the car that was pursuing them shuddered as the power to its engine died. It ground to a halt.

There were shouts from the people inside, and then they got out, guns raised. Liz didn't pause. She returned the energy she'd taken – aiming right at each of the four men. They collapsed.

Caul kept driving in silence for several seconds before saying, “When all this is over, Agent Keen, I would be fascinated to hear how you can possibly be able to do that.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” said Liz, exhaling and leaning back in her seat. She rolled up the window.

“And I have to congratulate you on your choice, too. Not only does it seem like it meant you were able to be sure you hit all of them at once, but there was no gunfire, which means it didn't attract any extra attention,” Caul added.

“Plus I already used up enough of my bullets today,” said Liz. She wondered what the Cabal's clean-up crew would think of what they found at that scene. Of course they had to have doctors in their employ who would probably be able to tell that their men had been electrocuted.

But she couldn't worry about that. She and Caul were now free to go to the warehouse. They were heading back to Red, who was hopefully still doing all right. And they were going to ready the Fulcrum to be put into play. Maybe they could all put the Cabal and the dangers it represented behind them, soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the crazy long delay! Maybe it won't be surprising to hear that the beginning of S4 has been the opposite of inspiring. But I'm sort of optimistic now, and I haven't given up on the show or this story.
> 
> Enjoy.

Hours later, Red's doctors had declared him stable enough to be moved. He still hadn't woken, which they said wasn't anything to worry about at this point. And Dembe and Leonard Caul had put together all the pieces of the Fulcrum, now, and were in the process of arranging the release of its information.

Ressler had suggested – more than once, by now – that she should go home and get some sleep. It was well into early morning, and she was definitely tired. But she didn't think there was much chance of her getting any rest without knowing whether Red was going to be okay.

As Red's stretcher was about to be moved, however, Mr. Kaplan came and spoke to her, as well. “Elizabeth, you've done what you can here, for the time being. Please go home and rest.”

Liz sighed. They were right, both her and Ressler. She couldn't even say she'd be helping protect him. She was bone-tired. She wouldn't want herself as a guard like this. “Fine. But, uh, please call as soon as he wakes up.”

The older woman smiled briefly. “That, we can do. Now, go.”

She didn't remember anything about the trip back home, except that they'd decided not to take a direct route. She had a vague memory of actually arriving back at the apartment, and managing to complete some of her nighttime routine. And then she knew Ressler was next to her in bed, and that was the last thing she was aware of for some time.

Surprisingly, the next thing she knew, there was light coming in through the windows and Ressler was still lying beside her. She had slept the whole rest of the night without even really moving, it seemed. It was hard to bring to mind the last time that had happened. It was nice. And it was especially nice not to have to feel like she had to get up right away, even now.

Just then, there was a chiming sound from her phone. Ressler didn't move, so Liz kept as quiet as possible as she stretched out to grab it. The text was from an unknown number, which got her blood pumping quickly. “ _He's awake_ ,” it read. “ _I'll text the location when he's ready to have visitors_.”

Closing her eyes for a second, she took a few breaths. Then she replied, “ _Thank you_ ,” and left it at that. She guessed the messenger could be either Dembe or Mr. Kaplan. Setting the phone back down, she rolled over to face her partner. The question was, could she relax again, now, until it was actually time to get up?

Ressler's breathing changed, then, and his eyes cracked open. “You 'k?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Go back to sleep.”

“Mm,” he said. “'K. You, too.”

And she barely had time to wonder again if she could before she was out once more.

~~~~~~

It took only a second after the two of them arrived at the Post Office for Aram and Samar to come over to them. “Have you heard how Mr. Reddington is?” Aram wanted to know.

Liz saw Cooper appear behind them. She walked with the others toward him, so that they would all hear at the same time. “I got a message early this morning that said he'd woken up. That's all I know, though.”

Aram looked relieved. “But that has to be a good sign. Right?”

She gave him a smile. Aram was still almost as terrified of Red as he'd been when they all first met him, but he seemed to be fond of him now, too. “I think so, yes.”

“Good,” said Cooper. “Because I have other news that you all need to know.”

“What is it, sir?” said Ressler.

“I don't know how many of you have seen, but several major news outlets are now running stories alleging the existence of a shadow government,” Cooper told them.

Liz raised her eyebrows. So Dembe and Caul must have done what was necessary, with the Fulcrum. “Okay. And have you heard anything about any responses?”

“Not in so many words,” said Cooper. “But I did get a call from an old friend of mine this morning, apparently out of the blue. You've met him, too – remember Tom Connolly?”

Liz blinked, and then swallowed. She didn't like to be reminded of when they'd investigated the Judge, and in the process found out that their Assistant Director had been involved in a very questionable conviction along with his friend. “Yes,” was all she said. She didn't have a leg to stand on now, in terms of judging her boss's choices. That was for sure. She sighed. “What did he want?”

Cooper shook his head. “Well, it wasn't the kind of call you make just to catch up with a friend. First, he wanted to be sure I knew that he's about to be sworn in as the next Attorney General of the United States. And then he made a few pointed comments about keeping my task force in line. He said if I didn't keep control, and I quote, 'You might find that Reddington isn't the only criminal you're working with – nor will he be the only one to get hurt.'”

Feeling a brief, irrational urge to flee at that very moment, Liz instead folded her arms and met his eyes. “Sir, is it possible Tom Connolly works for the Cabal?”

“If you'd asked me just a week or so ago if my friend was a part of some huge, shadowy conspiracy that reaches to the highest levels of our government, I'd have been certain that he wasn't,” Cooper said. Then he laughed, without much humor. “But that was before I saw the proof that this Cabal exists.”

“So you think it is possible,” Ressler filled in grimly.

“I do,” Cooper confirmed.

“And what is that not-very-veiled threat supposed to mean?” Samar spoke up to ask. “We can assume he wants us to stop investigating the Cabal – or what? We'll be killed? Shot by snipers, the same as Reddington?”

Liz clenched her hands into fists. “I don't think that's all it means.” It was all too clear to her. But before she just came out with her theory, she took a breath. If Connolly was about to be the Attorney General, and if he worked for the Cabal... the chances were it wasn't all about her. “The other threat is that he has dirt on us. I don't know exactly who, and I don't know what he has, obviously, but that has to be what he's talking about, saying that Reddington isn't the only criminal on the task force.”

In the short pause that followed that, Aram spoke up. “Uh, but we aren't actual criminals. I mean... everybody's run a red light in their lives, I guess, but that's not the same thing as...” He trailed off, maybe because of the growing discomfort that seemed to be coming from everyone else involved in the conversation. No one was meeting each other's eyes.

“Regardless of any past actions,” Cooper said, a little too late for his would-be unaffected tone to quite work, “if Connolly is a part of the Cabal, these are the kinds of people who would invent whatever they need. And I do think it's likely that you're both right about what the warning meant,” he added, with a nod to both Samar and Liz.

“Really?” said Aram, swallowing obviously. “We really might get shot?”

“It's not going to come to that,” was Cooper's response.

Liz was trying not to see this as all her fault. She knew the Cabal had been active for longer than she'd been alive, that her life's intersection with them was not anything she'd chosen. And even getting her friends involved, as they were now, hadn't been something she'd done lightly at all. But now, even though Aram started to focus and look less scared, as Cooper outlined their next course of action with the evidence they had against the Director, she couldn't help thinking it might be about time to disappear, to do something to get the Cabal's focus away from the people she cared about. It would be hard, with Red still recovering, but she didn't doubt that he – and maybe Dembe – would still do what they could.

“Hey, Keen,” Ressler was saying, giving her a concerned look.

She blinked. He'd probably been trying to get her attention for a little while now. “What? Sorry.” Aram was working on whatever it was that Cooper had thought he should do, but Samar was looking at her, too.

“Let's go,” he said, still looking worried. “Aram has something. We found out the identity of this guy who looks like he was the Director's old driver. His name's Marcus Ellis.”

She shook herself. Now wasn't the time to go down that path. Not quite yet. For the moment, at least, she needed to do her job. “Okay.”

“So let's go see what there is to get from him.”

“Yeah.” They did have the info they'd been gathering on the Director, and if they could use it while the Cabal was still caught off-guard by the Fulcrum, maybe everything could be resolved before a more desperate measure was required. “Let's do it.”

Of course, their lead turned out to be a bust: Ellis refused to say a word about his former employer. He wouldn't even confirm whether he'd been fired or quit. That very refusal pointed at something to hide, but it certainly seemed like they weren't going to get it through him.

Especially after such a frustrating several hours, it was an incredible relief when the same number that had texted her that morning sent another message toward the end of the day. “ _If you're available, he wants to see you_.” Liz took a shuddering breath. That meant he was okay – even genuinely getting better. She wanted to replace the awful images of him bleeding out on the ground, or trying to tell her something before surgery, as soon as she could. “Hey, Ressler,” she said, “I just got an update. Red wants to see me.”

Ressler raised his eyebrows. “That must mean he's doing okay now, right?”

She nodded, managing a brief smile. This also had to be the moment where she was ready to take her chance, though, which was nothing to be happy about. “Uh, I'm guessing his team doesn't want other people to know where he is, though.”

Frowning, Ressler glanced at the phone in her hands as if he could read a location from it. “Liz, just because they put the Fulcrum into play doesn't mean you're safe.”

“I know,” said Liz. She reached her hand into her jacket pocket, where she still carried the jamming device that Leonard Caul had made, and pulled it out to show him. “They can't track my chip, though. I'll take a cab. And I'll text you when I get there.” Her phone chimed again, and she looked at the message. “The location isn't even that far. It's still broad daylight. I should be fine.”

He didn't look convinced. “Look, what difference would it make if I came with you? Why would Red's people mind?”

“One of us should probably stay here, anyway,” said Liz. “This is work. Red could have a name or new information about the Director for us, and we should be ready to act.” That was true enough.

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” he said. Then he sighed. “But you'll text me when you get there, okay?”

“I will,” she said. And she wasn't even lying about that. “See you later.” That, on the other hand, might be a bit of a stretch. It all remained to be seen.

“All right,” he said. “Be careful.”

The taxi to a few blocks away from Red's location turned out to be a good idea for one extra reason, apart from not involving an easily-identifiable FBI-issued SUV: Liz could cry a little, as she rode in the back, without that making it hard to drive safely. Getting in the mental headspace to actually take this action she'd been considering for so long was a whole different ballgame from having thought about it before now.

But she focused as they got closer. Not only did she need to make sure she didn't see any sign of being watched, but she also needed to be at her best when she saw Red. She couldn't already be crying, even before going in. Especially since it might be premature.

Thankfully, there was no sign of anyone following her as she paid the driver and walked toward the location she'd been given. So she was able to send that text when she arrived and was ushered inside Red's safehouse. She even waited for Ressler's response before reaching to turn off her phone. Then she reconsidered. She didn't know what Red would say. Maybe he would actually have a tip that she should pass on first, if nothing else. So the phone stayed on, for the moment.

Though it was still jarring to see the always in-charge, larger-than-life Raymond Reddington lying, seriously injured, in a bed with medical equipment and monitors around him, Liz was just glad to see him awake and seemingly alert. “Hi,” she said, gulping past the lump in her throat.

“Lizzie,” he said, and though his smile was not without pain, it did look genuine.

Somehow, she couldn't think of any way to start this conversation. There was too much to cover. She cleared her throat and sat in the chair by the bed, which she guessed might have just recently been vacated by Dembe or Mr. Kaplan. Clasping her hands together, she decided she had to at least see what he said when she asked, “Are you... are you going to be okay?”

He nodded, expression still soft. “So I'm told.” Then he looked her over carefully. “Are you all right? And Donald?”

“We're fine,” she said. “But, uh, Cooper's getting pushback about Fulcrum. From Tom Connolly – I guess you remember him, too.”

Red nodded. “That doesn't surprise me. I assume Harold hasn't had his people stand down.”

She shook her head. “Of course he wouldn't. And that's good.”

Red paused, still regarding her carefully. “You're worried about your colleagues.”

“Of course I am!” She did her best not to raise her voice too much. “They didn't ask for this. And I'm not just sitting on the sidelines while the Cabal decides when they should try to take them out, too. I want to do more. I think I can, too, but not from the FBI.”

“What are you proposing?” He looked guarded. “The situation is dire, to be sure, but I ask you not to make any decision that can't be taken back.”

She did see his point. “But my decisions would be my problem,” she said. “Don't blow me off, here. Please.” When he didn't reply immediately, she took that as a good sign and went back to his question. “I don't want to disappear and hide. I'm not wanted for any crime. What I want is to fight. The Cabal still doesn't know what I can do, as far as we can tell.”

Red's expression was hardly one that she would classify as encouraging or pleased. “So your plan is not to become a fugitive, but a vigilante, now? Lizzie, I don't know if I can be a part of that.”

He was looking pale, Liz noticed suddenly. It was very likely that he should be asleep, or at least getting another dose of painkillers. That also meant, of course, that she couldn't yell at him, no matter how frustrated she was. She could, however, still express her intentions. “Then I'll do it without your help.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then instead his eyes closed for a few seconds.

“Are you okay? I should get a nurse,” Liz said. She hadn't come here to stress him out or make it harder for him to recover.

His eyes opened. “No, not yet,” he said, though his voice was strained. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “The fact of the matter is that, however I'd like to respond to your wishes here, I'm going to remain indisposed for some time.”

She nodded, rubbing her scar. “All the more reason to give the fight against the Cabal more options than just the FBI. Let me in. Let me work with your team. Like I said, I'm not aiming to get fired or anything, but I think I can be careful, stay hidden, and go beyond what I'd be able to do as just an agent.”

He searched her face for a minute. “Let me talk to Dembe and Baz, and see what we can do. I'm not promising anything, Lizzie. My first aim is to keep you safe, as my team is well aware.”

She stopped herself just in time before she made a cutting remark about how well the team _hadn't_ done in keeping their own boss safe. That wasn't helpful, and it wasn't anyone's fault but the Cabal. “Fine. Uh, if you do have a tip for the task force, I can pass it on. Otherwise...” She stood up. “I, uh, I'm really glad you... glad you're still here.”

He looked touched. “I am, too. I'll talk to Dembe and Baz, and perhaps find a tip for Harold and the others, as well.”

“Okay,” she said. That left her standing nervously outside Red's room while he consulted with the other two men. But before too long, Dembe and Baz came back out.

“He has a suggestion for you and the rest of the task force,” said Dembe.

Mentally calculating the odds on whether this meant he had actually heard her or not, Liz nodded. “Okay.”

“There's a bank where Tom Connolly has an account under an assumed name,” Dembe went on. “We do not know which account is his, but a great many people who use this bank have secrets they do not wish to become known. Raymond wants the FBI to investigate the bank. Meanwhile, he has an extra idea for you.”

Liz's pulse quickened. As she listened to his suggestion, she smiled. “I can do that.” She had to admit, it was nice to know she could at least get it started without disappearing, too. She still needed to be ready to draw the Cabal's attention away from the rest of the task force, and she had a few ideas for how move forward with that. But this would work for the time being.

So it was with a combination of relief and adrenaline that she texted Ressler again to say that she was heading back with a tip. Back at work, it took some focus to make sure she pulled Aram aside instead of being distracted by what she imagined was coming. “Aram, can I ask you for something?”

“Uh, sure,” said Aram. “What can I do for you?"

She stepped closer, making sure that no one else was listening. “Do you think you can get a quick wiretap warrant through, if we tell a judge that our informant suggested they might be in contact with this bank in the next couple of hours? I get it if that's too much to ask. I know this isn't a lot to go on. But let's just say, from what Reddington and Dembe told me, I'm thinking there might not just be us doing the straightforward, federal agent investigation. I want to make sure we aren't totally in the dark about what they might be doing.”

“Oh,” said Aram, eyes widening. “Should we – I mean, did you tell Assistant Director Cooper?”

“Well, there's not exactly anything to tell, though. Just a hunch.” She shrugged, then paused before turning to go. “Do you think that's not enough?"

“No, I'll definitely see what I can do,” he said, with a smile.

“Thanks, Aram.” That still left her with plenty to mull over as she and Ressler headed to the bank.

“You okay?” Ressler asked, after a few minutes.

“What? Yeah,” she said, probably a shade too quickly. She took a breath. “I mean, no, not really. I'm not okay with Connolly's threat. I can't stand the idea of what he could do to us.”

His jaw clenched, and he nodded. Then he glanced at her again. “Liz, you've been preoccupied all day. You're not...” He trailed off.

She raised an eyebrow. “I'm not what?”

He sighed. “Just... It's not your responsibility to – to take all this on yourself. Okay?”

Damn him, he was too good at reading her. She swallowed, but met his eyes. “Okay,” was all she said. If he wasn't totally reassured, at least he dropped it.

Once they reached the bank, though they were quickly ushered into the office of the manager of the place, that seemed to be as far as the staff wanted to go in terms of helping the FBI. Neither Liz nor Ressler were particularly surprised. “Well, nothing says we can't look around a little before we leave,” Liz murmured to him, after they stepped out of the office.

“What, on the chance Connolly just happens to show up? No way he will,” Ressler said.

“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “But Red says a lot of the customers here are criminals. Maybe we'll spot one, get enough to get a warrant. Still a long shot, I know.”

Ressler looked thoughtful. “But worth a few extra minutes. Let's do it.”

“We should split up, cover more ground before they kick us out,” she said. She headed toward the back at his nod. It was much less likely that anyone would believe any excuse of hers if she was found in the 'Employees Only' area, but if she was to carry out the action Red had suggested, she had to risk it.

First, she sent a small jolt of electricity to take out the nearest security camera (without raising her hands first). Luckily, a similarly small amount of electricity was all it took to get past the card reader lock on the door. Continuing to keep her now-gloved hands by her sides in case anyone was around, she closed the door behind her and looked around. There was no sign directing her to the utility room, or anything that helpful. So she picked a direction and hurried down the hall, disabling every security camera she came across. Who knew how long she'd have?

The good thing was that this wasn't an enormous building. This was nothing like escaping from the facility where she'd first met the Director. And when she did run into a security officer, she flashed her badge and told him there was a possible breach of the building's security. She gave him some reasonable-sounding directions for how to 'help', which involved being somewhere else, and asked if there were any other officers nearby. There were not, which was a relief. Of course, the man would likely hear from his superiors soon that the only breach actually in process was hers. That was the reason she hadn't asked him for the location of the main switchboard; if he didn't know where she was headed, he couldn't tell anyone else.

Her phone chimed then. She ignored it. She couldn't really use the touchscreen with her gloves on, anyway, and she could already guess it was Ressler wondering where she was. Then at last she found the control room – just as an alarm started to sound. Swearing, she shocked her way into the room before quickly pulling power from the main switchboard.

The lights flickered, though the alarm continued. That wouldn't do. Getting just enough to stay below the level where she felt almost high, she then sent it all straight back at the switchboard. It overloaded, sending out a shower of sparks. The lights went out, and the alarm went silent. A second later, however, both of them came back on.

Her phone rang at that moment, and she flinched. “Sorry, Ressler, it's going to be a minute,” she muttered, without looking at it. There probably wasn't enough time to find the backup generator and take that out, too. But that had just been a possible bonus, anyway. According to what Red had said, what she'd done was probably enough for the desired result. Still, just in case, she pulled nearly as much again from the lights (and the lines leading into them) as she had before. She sent some of it back, exploding the fluorescent bulbs in the control room and, she thought, some in the vicinity of the room.

Then she heard shouts approaching, and paused in her release of power. That was probably rest of the bank's security. Quickly, she lowered her hands and put away the gloves. “Agent Keen, is that you?” said Greg, the man she'd encountered before. His gun was unholstered, but the only thing he pointed at her was a flashlight. “Did you see the intruder?”

Liz blinked. “Ah, no. I just got here,” she managed to say. “Whoever it was must have moved on pretty quick.”

Ressler came up behind the man, then. It was hard to see by the light of Greg's flashlight, but it looked like he glanced toward the shorted-out equipment and then gave her a look. When he spoke, however, it was to say, “Agent Keen and I can search the perimeter, see what there is to find out.”

“That would be very much appreciated,” Greg said.

Liz joined her partner and they both exited quickly. “I know, Ressler,” she said, as soon as they were outside. “Just give me a second.” She called Aram. “Hey, anything on that wiretap, Aram?”

“I did get it, like you asked,” was his first response. “And there's nothing from our, uh, friends yet. But I'm still listening.”

“Great. Keep me in the loop,” said Liz, before hanging up.

Ressler's eyes were narrowed. “You want to let me in on what the hell you're doing, Keen? And why Aram's in on it, but not me?”

“Aram isn't in on it,” she said. “Not really. I just asked him to do a tap of the bank's phones. If Reddington was right, we might get to hear the manager give Connolly a call warning him that the bank's power went off. Or maybe it will be automatic. Either way, that's proof that Connolly does keep something here, something he wants hidden.”

Ressler didn't look any less annoyed. In fact, he looked downright angry. “So your plan in coming here, this whole time, was to sneak off and vandalize private property? And you didn't think to tell me, first?”

“I didn't want you to get into trouble!” she said. “And I knew you wouldn't want me to do it. But we're running out of time, Ressler. We need to strike before the Cabal can hit us again.”

“You mean _you_ need to,” Ressler shot back. “Because that's how you're acting. Did you even hear me, earlier, when I asked you not to do this all by yourself?”

She bit her lip. “I heard you.” The energy she still hadn't had the opportunity to release wasn't helping her feel calm. “But I still have to do what I can.”

He scoffed. “See, you're trying to make that sound right, but it's not. It's one thing to, to carry out an extra side mission for Raymond Reddington. I do think that's messed up, but that's not even what I'm talking about. I know this Cabal is a big deal, and I hope you know I'm not turning you in. The bigger problem here is that you don't trust me enough to tell me ahead of time.”

Liz felt a lump in her throat. “Ressler, no, it's not that.” He was hurt. Of course he was hurt. She knew she would feel the same if their positions were reversed. “I was protecting you.” She huffed out a breath. “Trying to, anyway.”

“Agents!” It was Greg, heading toward them from the same exit they'd used. “Did you find out anything?”

Ressler straightened and faced him. “Nothing, unfortunately. What about on your end?”

He shook his head. “But it seems like nothing was actually taken.”

“Huh,” said Liz. “That's kind of bizarre. Good news, though.”

“Yeah,” said Greg. “I don't have a good explanation. Anyway, it clearly wasn't any kind of federal crime. We'll file a police report, but you two don't have to stick around.”

“Let us know if there's anything else we can do,” said Liz.

With another thanks, Greg took his leave. Privately, Liz thought the man seemed too honest to work at such a shady institution. She hoped he wasn't fired for this, and then winced at that thought.

“We should head back,” said Ressler, breaking the short silence that followed. “I don't know what we're going to tell Cooper about this.”

“It's possible that Aram already passed along the fact that I heard hints from Reddington that his people might have had plans here,” Liz said as they went to the car. “If Aram didn't, I will.”

He gave a short nod. But once they'd started the trip, he spoke up again. “I mean it, though, Liz: if you're going to keep pulling this kind of thing, I want to know. You can't give Reddington shit about keeping you in the dark and then turn around and do the same thing to me.”

That stung. Liz turned to stare out her window for a few moments, trying to find a response that made sense. She glanced back at him. “You might not like what I have to tell you,” she finally said, her voice quiet. Her gaze fell away from his. “I'm not worried that you'll turn me in. But that's kind of the problem, right there: just now, today, I already made you compromise your principles again for me. And I hate that. That's what I'm trying to avoid.”

His eyebrows rose. He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Well, that's not what I want you to avoid, because that's on me. If I can trust that you're taking the time to think about what it means when you do stuff like this, like what you just did...”

“I did take the time. I asked Reddington for suggestions how to use my abilities to help in ways that an FBI agent couldn't,” Liz put in, when he seemed unsure. “He didn't want me to, at first, actually.”

Ressler took that in. “All right. So if you made that decision – and I'm not saying I'm totally fine with it, by the way – but if I believe you're doing your best to do what you feel is right, then you have to be able to believe I can do the same.” He cleared his throat. “You're my partner, and I care about you, but you don't have some kind of spell on me. I can think and decide for myself.”

That lump was back in her throat. “Yeah.” Before she could say anything else, her phone rang. She flinched even though she had been expecting it. “Aram, what's up?”

“Are you and Agent Ressler on your way back?”

“Yeah, we'll be there in a minute.” She exchanged glances with Ressler again, putting her phone on speaker.

“Good. We got lucky. There was some kind of automatic alert that the bank sent out, something about losing power? And then someone called back, and Cooper recognized the voice as Connolly's,” said Aram.

“What did he say?” Ressler asked.

“Not much, but it might give us somewhere to start,” was Aram's response.

“It might,” Liz agreed. “Thanks, Aram. We'll see you soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Namarie for the edits.


End file.
